


Until We Have Faces (formerly: royalement vissé)

by Esyla



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Character Death, Completely different geography, Derek isn't emotionally constipated, Fairy Tale Elements, Hurt/Comfort, Just more of a doer than a talker, M/M, Mates, Minor Peter/Lydia, Mpreg, The Alpha Pack, War AU, Wedding of Convience, also lots of sex, at some point, forest living, it's gonna hurt before it gets better, minor Laura/Parrish, now with knotting, pheremones, royal au, wolf pack very tribal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-18
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2017-11-25 23:39:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 45,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/644173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esyla/pseuds/Esyla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Treaty of the first order is as follows.<br/>There will be a cease fire, effective immediately. The Wolf Nation will be allowed to develop better antidotes to monkshood without retaliation. Should retaliation follow they are within their rights to seek reinforcements from the conclave. The Argent Kingdom will relinquish their ownership of the aircraft factories to Beacon's royal family to control until such a time as they feel the need to use them. All aircraft produced may never enter air space above the Wolf Nation nor be created to cary weapons or spies against the wolf nation. Taxation on trade between the Wolf Nation and Beacon shall be decided in a regular treat on the first day following the summer equinox of every year. </p><p>Finally,His Royal Highness Prince Przemysław Achan "Stiles" Stilinski Heir Apparent to Beacon and All Holdings will be wed and mated to Derek Hale Beta of the First Pack and brother to Alpha Laura Hale within a month of signing. </p><p>Cosigned:<br/>Alpha Laura Hale<br/>King Alaric Wielisław Stilinski</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Saucery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saucery/gifts).



> A short time ago Saucery announced that she would be taking down and forever deleting my favorite fic of hers. I asked if I could write my own version. She said yes. My story has a different direction but a similar outline. Her's was titled Royally Screwed in Latian. I have gone with french. NEW TITLE NEW VISION.
> 
> Oh the plans I have for this. You would not believe. There is going to be a great deal of history and lore and traditions worked into the story at different points. 
> 
> For reference sake if you ever wonder what the Great Hall looks like for either kingdom I would point you to Rohan for the wolves and Gondor for Beacon. The world is more advanced than LOTR but the architecture has a similar feel.
> 
> Please enjoy!

**** ** **

****Chapter 1****  
  
Stiles didn’t get dress for breakfast that morning, in retrospect he should have. But he didn’t. His pajamas were button down so frankly they were nicer than some clothes he saw on the streets. His neck felt funny from sleeping too long in one position and his leg itched even though it was fully healed now.  
  
The servants he passed shook their heads but smiled at their prince. Stiles got along with most of the staff and often felt a little bad about how many of them had to be on hand to clean up his messes and make him presentable. Finstock sure as hell liked to remind him. His etiquette coach was getting very close to threatening bodily harm.  
  
Thankfully breakfast was never served in the large or formal dinning hall. So in the morning Stiles got to spend a few minutes with his dad before they both had to put on their ‘public faces’ and go do what needed doing.  
  
“Morning.” Stiles mumbles and makes a beeline for the grapefruit juice. The day has not properly begun until his juice is gone. And coffee. But Stiles doesn’t drink that in front of his dad. He started drinking coffee while in the army and his dad frowns every time he sees his son drinking the sludge.  
  
“You should have just brought the blanket with you.” His dad huffs and goes back to the paper. The headline reads: Attacks on bases becoming more viscous. Will peace ever be possible?  
  
“Tell me the talks are going better and the papers don’t have it right, or I might just bring the bed down with me and stage a protest.” Stiles motions to the front of the paper with a crispy piece of bacon, that was originally not on his plate.  
  
“Well...” His dad sets the paper down. Stiles looks up because his dad is one of the most well spoken people on the planet, he only stalls when it’s going to be bad.  
  
“Just give it to me simple, okay I can handle it. I am sure I can get out on the road and work of some of the conservatives and the party members farther south. We are not letting this go on.” Stiles is not letting this go on. He has been there and this war needs over. Or he needs to personally beat the crap out of both ruling parties because as far as he can tell the war started over a series of stupid and ridiculous misunderstandings.  
  
Stiles has to resist the urge to rub his leg or his chest. His father will notice and look depressed. It was supposed to be a stunt, something to prove that the monarchy wasn’t just there for show and to use money like a giant pit. Stiles had been barely legal enough to join the army but he had gone. Sure they didn’t let him get too far into danger, that would be risky and unwise. But danger found him.  
  
He had been stationed at the most secure base that was a good ten leagues from the front lines. It was a natural stronghold with a tricky entrance and a mountain to it back. Stiles had barely a month under his belt when an entire garrison of wolves had made it through the front lines and into base. Most of his platoon had died that night. Half of them in front of Stiles’ eyes, ripped to bits by the creatures who weren’t afraid of bullets laced with monkshood or not. Stiles had survived almost by accident. The werewolf that attacked him had already torn into him pretty badly and his location was pretty much in the enemies hands. If Stiles hadn’t slashed the werewolf’s throat and then passed out under the body he would have bled out. The claws left in his leg was the only thing that kept his femoral artery from leaking everywhere.  
  
It had been considered a miracle when the base was taken back in the morning and Stiles was found alive. Many considered it a divine sign. Stiles thought it was his weak stomach and some dumb fucking luck.  
  
“No, no that’s not it. This particular proposal has the rather unique aspect of being nearly universally supported.” Stiles doesn’t like those words, his father only uses big words with him when it’s very bad.  
  
“I am going to hate this aren’t I?” Stiles doesn’t know why he asks but when his dad nods he gets a funny feeling in his gut. He turned eighteen a few weeks ago. The great and horrible M word is now a possibility for him. “Please say it’s not...” Stiles can’t even find the words, they have abandoned him for all time.  
  
“The First Pack has agreed to a ceasefire and a real working treaty in exchange for a suitable mate for one of their members.” His dad is still using the big words to make it seem less personal, but he gets it now.  
  
“Our people stop dying if I marry one of them.”  Stiles wants to scream and yell that he won’t do it, but there are ghosts of friends who demand that he doesn't.  
  
“Derek.” His father corrects. “The treaty names Derek as the candidate.”

* * *

  
Derek is at his den when the summons from his sister arrives. She is rarely formal so it must be urgent. He had hoped for a few days away from the capital, away from all the eyes and pack members wishing he would be something he isn’t.  
  
He expects that this is about Josh. Most of the pack has not yet recovered from the loss of their third highest. And those that have wish to take his seat at the table. The great hall was mostly empty when he entered. The oak floors creak as he walks, something they only do because he doesn’t care who hears him, he could enter silently but there is no point.  
  
His sister and uncle sit at the large table near the back. There is not throne here, not like the humans seem to keep. A true alpha does not require a chair to mark their power. Peter sits at the head of the table today but anyone with eyes can see that Laura is the one in charge.  
  
Laura is in her leathers, most likely straight from another war meeting. With their numbers down to three she now has to do twice her work load. Peter is a blank slate, which is a bit like saying Peter is acting insane. His uncle has always been an expressive person, the loss of his son has ruined him.  
  
“My alpha.” Derek greets his sister, she doesn’t look up from her work and waves him off to a chair near her. He sits because the paper she is holding is not of their land. Those of the moon use thick paper with heavy pulp to bear the ink and dust of the ages, only Men use the soft thin bastard version of paper.  
  
“Tell the emissary to enter.” Laura says quietly. There is no need to shout in their halls the guards can hear every word, their loyalty is the only reason there is every any secrecy. Only those bound by blood oaths may serve.  
  
A thin reed of a man is pushed into the room from a side door. His clothing is bright and layer and he wears a rather elaborate cloth about his neck. It’s distracting and offensive. Covering a neck like that seems weak and cowardly. Derek feels his hackles rise and sees night glow gold bleed into Peter’s eyes.  
  
“This has been approved?” Laura asked the man. “These are their terms?”  
  
“Yes Alpha. The court and the King have signed off on it. As well as three emissaries from Argent.” He gulps and wiped his sweating palms on his thin pants. “Regular updates would be required for the first few years to assure the King that there was no mistreatment of the treaty. But yes, your demands are met and these are ours.”  
  
“Not all our demands.” Growls Peter lowly, the human doesn’t hear and perhaps that is for the best.  
  
“You understand what you are asking of us?” Laura has a funny tone to her voice, a strained anger. She has been pushing herself again, this war will make a corpse of her like the rest of the family.  
  
“We do. It is the same you will be asking of us. More so. The line ends with him.” The funny little man’s voice breaks on the last word.  
  
“You may go.” Laura turns back to look at Derek. “Would you like to see their offer?”  
  
“Just tell me what is commanded of me.” Derek doesn’t need to see. He knows all of what happens in the hall. He knows what his sister wants for their people and what the Men want in return.  
  
“Take the prince as your mate.” She says in a voice that for once in many months is not harsh, she sounds a little sad. Derek had known this was coming. The offer had been in the works for a while, but he had not known until this moment that she would take it. Of course Laura would not mate with the human, her line needed to be the strongest and the oldest of blood. So he would fall on this sword, for his country and his sister.  
  
“Yes alpha.” It is sealed in those words.

* * *

[Come harass me on tumblr!@](http://alyseofwonderland.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia helps her cousin make a good and impression and Derek finds that perhaps this will not be a terrible fate to befall him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dont know why, but Derek is turning to a poet in his head. He is not big for words but he has all of them up in his heads. It is always the silent ones that have the most words to use.

****Chapter 2****  
  
Stiles is only completely incensed when he finds out that the treaty had been in talks for a month or so before he knew anything about the terms. He had not thrown a hissy fit, as his father claimed. He might have had a bit of a yelling match with the librarian. What did they expect? He had three weeks to prepare to be effectively a damsel in distress and he had almost no literature on Pack behavior on the other side of the border.  
  
“It wasn’t considered polite conversation.” Finstock had informed him during lessons a few days after his rampage in the library.   
  
“Well fuck that! I am about to live there for a few years.” Stiles went back to piling the few books he did have on his desk, Finstock could suck a duck for all he cared.   
  
“That all depends on the production of an heir...” Finstock had that tone of voice that meant Stiles was going to not like what was about to hurt his ears.  
  
“How about you leave some mystery for the wedding night?” Stiles interrupted. He could hear Finstocks teeth grinding behind him, the man was never going to let this go. “You are dismissed.” Stiles waved and hoped that Finstock actually took a royal order from him seriously. Moments later retreating footsteps echoed down the halls. It seemed that being engaged to a wolf had finally given him the power to dismiss his tutor.   
  
He was neck deep in reading when he heard another enter his chambers.This walk had a distinctly feminine click to it and he wanted to bang his head into the table.  
  
“Hello cousin.” Stiles greeted without turning to look at Lydia. He doesn’t need to actually see her to know what she is surely wearing or how her hair has been done this day. Since the announcement Lydia has been in particularly high spirits. She is the new heir after all.   
  
“You sound dreadfully bored or sad. I never can tell with you.” She coos and leans over to look at his reading. “Well that is understandable you reading selection is atrocious.”   
  
“Could you at least pretend to not be pleased as a peach to be the new heir while I am moping in my fate?” Stiles asked swiveling his chair to face his cousin. She is stunning as always. It makes him wonder about the choices the family had made on who to marry over the past thousand years, that she should be so remarkable and he should appear so weak. Lydia has gone with her new style of wearing more formal wear all the time and has increased the height of her heals. Today her dress is a rather stunning shade of grey that makes her eyes and hair glitter against her pale skin. If not for the treaty Stiles had been expected to marry her at some point unless he found a suitable foreign princess. For that alone he is happy with the current arrangement.  
  
“I’m not though.” Lydia drops her smile and sheds the mask she wears with so many others. “I am not happy be be heir. I am rather hoping that the old stories of the wolves are true, that mates can be magic and overcome all obstacles.” Lydia turns and sets herself down in a chair with all the grace of a dove, he wonders how she does it sometimes. “I am not made to be queen.”  
  
“I really beg to differ. You were born to be queen.” Stiles teases her, when they were young he had purposed once. She had turned him down claiming she was born to be a king. The court had never gotten over their amusement.  
  
“Joke all you want but I don’t have it in me Stiles. I can’t be selfless like that. I refuse to marry anyone that I don’t love or throw myself on the proverbial fire to save this country.” That was the reason he had promised to never marry her. It was better this way. “Enough of this, lets talk clothes.”  
  
“I would rather take the dinner fork to my eye.” Stiles flopped down on his writing desk in a rather sad attempt to stop her. There was no stopping Lydia. She was a hurricane and terrifying to behold.   
  
“Oh hush.” Lydia walked away heading for his changing room. Stiles waited. She would be back. “Is this what you are wearing?” Came her voice moments later.  
  
“If it is the fancy a hell getup laid out on the table, then yes.” Stiles called out. He had reading to do, really knowing about what kind of actions might be social suicide on the other side of the border was more important than what Lydia thought of his wedding suit.  
  
“But you can’t. You will look weak.” Lydia sounded truly worried and mortified so of course Stiles went to see what the matter was.   
  
“Whatever do you mean?” She was making very little sense, which was only compounded by the fact that upon entering his changing room he found that Lydia had removed all of the neck clothes and shirt from the formal suit. “What _are_ you doing?”  
  
“I am saving you wedding day.” She huffed and threw the huge ruffled shirt on the floor. “Wolfes see covering a neck as a sign of weakness. He will loathe it if the first time you meet your neck is covered up to your ears.” Lydia opened his closet and began to flips through his shirts.   
  
“How do you know that?” Stiles tries to stop her from wrinkling his ceremonial stuff but she slaps at his hand before tearing a shirt with no collar at all off the rack and putting that with the original get up. Something about this new look upsets her because now the pants are on the floor and she goes and grabs his damn riding pants to add to the weirdest mixture of clothes he has ever seen.  
  
“You forget what my father did before the war, and the divorce.” Lydia pokes him in the sternum and then goes back to rifling through his closet. “There are three kill points wolves go for, the throat, that belly and the thigh. Two are traditionally covered with clothing. Covering the third means you are weak and fear attack. The more bare the kill points are the less you fear for you life.”  
  
“And I don’t fear for my life?” Stiles really was rather unsure about this fact.   
  
“You don’t want to look like you do.” Lydia throws out a deep green vest that he has no memory of ever wearing and removing the heavily embroidered one from the ensemble.   
  
“What are you doing to my clothes?” He finally broke and asked.  
  
“We might be having the legal parts of the wedding here but wolves are very much about their culture. You will have a second wedding there. Well a mating so to speak. And from what I remember of the last human-wolf union my father witnessed, you are considered one of them the moment they accept the offer of marriage. You should look like you already are one of them.” Lydia put the final finishing touches on his outfit and stood back to smile “And now your new husband will actually want you.”  
  
Stiles thought that might be an overstatement, then he looked at what she had put together. It was rather remarkable in a way. Stiles had never known he had such green and silver in his wardrobe. Beacon’s colors were red and white with grey trim. Only here this looked like something he had seen the emissary's for the wolves wear to the council meetings. His pants would be too tight for formal setting and his vest would also be on the tight side but considering his shirt was non existent it wouldn’t matter. The silver jacket that had originally picked now looked like the final touches to the look rather than the backdrop it had once been.   
  
“I will start a trend.” It was the most he could think, that people would be dressing like this for years after this. God help the tailors.

* * *

  
Derek feels his teeth are on edge from the moment he crosses the border. The landscape feel foreign and smells wrong. The lack of pine and redwood feels bare to his senses. Being on the other side of the great range tugs at his soul, the polarity of the great peaks his worst enemy.  
  
The mountain range was what had originally kept his people in the north. When they had crawled out of the great darkness and learned to speak to the moon the mountains had kept them locked from moving south towards the sun. The range was full of magnetic metals that stung at the deepest part of him. The only pass through the poison was the Great Pass of Hills, for which Beacon controlled the border.   
  
He disliked the way the royal city was built, into the living rock of the greatest of the peaks in their land. The palace stood atop the city able to overlook the pass and most of the kingdom. Why the country had gotten it’s name, was the series of outposts posted along the ridge of the mountain chain, a Beacon to the world of man of impending doom from the north.   
  
Derek growled at the gates of the city as the closed behind him and his single companion. There would be no grand entrance for him. He had expressly asked against it. He had brought no trunks or bags for this journey, he needed none.   
  
He was surprised to find that the person to meet him at the gate was a woman. Humans were notorious for treating their women as less. This one was also not dressed in weak stated clothing but rather in the tighter dress of his people.  
  
“I am Morrell, I shall take you to your mate.” She tilted her neck in submission and then turned without pause on the long climb up the city to the palace.   
  
People stared as he went. Glared or hissed. Women pulled their children away from the street. The scent of fear and pain wafted from the city and the pale stone was dead and didn’t creak or groan beneath his feet. The lack of earth felt wrong and dull and empty in this place.  
  
They reached the palace in perhaps shorter time than was normal, he did not need to break or pause to see the sights. There were no sights and he was not tired. The great hall doors reached the height of the tallest tree near his den, and opening it required ten men. It seemed such a waste. There was a screen. It divided the front part of the hall from where the throne sat.  
  
“I have been instructed to ask if you would like to change.” Morrell said with a smile.  
  
“No.” Derek sat down anyway. He remembered this song and dance from the last time his people had met on the human side of the border. That had ended in death and fire. This hopefully would not.   
  
“Take it off!” Came a hushed voice in the other side of the great hall.  
  
“I will not take it off it is part of the suit that my ministers set out for me, three of them will be pissed if I take off the pin and the necktie.” A gruff and deeper voice responded.  
  
“I am getting married so you have to do what I say!” The first voice demanded and then there was a rip of fabric.   
  
“You are such a bride.” The gruff voice laughed.  
  
“Don’t tempt me. I will take you up on that and ask for ridiculous things.” The first voice laughed a little and then there was a clicking noise.  
  
“They are ready to receive you.” Morrell stated and then pulled the screen back. The hall was almost completely grey stone except for the deep red wood throne that sat atop the steps. Three men and a woman stood on the steps below the throne. The eldest of the men was clearly the King from the silver crown about his head and the finery of his dress. Derek was amused to find that his neckcloth must have recently been removed because the bares space did not go with the cut of the jacket.   
  
The next was clearly his mate. The man, boy more than anything. He was dressed, like a wolf, like a mate. Derek had been expecting to see a prince of the south covered in cloth that hid his body and covered his weaknesses. He had prepared himself to be repulsed or bored but this tender creature before him set his instincts on fire. He could deal with a mate like this one, bare and brown with green against his skin and the pale light of moon on his cheeks.   
  
The third man was rather unremarkable but his set and jaw showed that the fiery woman at his side was his offshoot. This family would inherit the throne should Derek fail to do the thing that had been give to him. He didn’t like that idea. Not that he had anything against this man and his daughter, more that he was much more interested in seeing his son or daughter on that throne.   
  
“Well met.” The king greeted.   
  
“Returned.” Derek did the slight head tilt that was required of him.   
  
“May I present Przemysław Achan Stilinski.” The king motioned to his son and Derek felt their eyes lock. It was a pause in the earth, time stilled and the air in his lungs held. He had wolf eyes, this boy who would never be a wolf had the eyes of a predator. It was hypnotizing.   
  
A question was asked of him, Derek nodded but did not hear the statement. He was too enraptured with the eyes he was to look upon forever. Perhaps this duty would not feel as such in the future. Maybe one day he could see a fire in that molten gold and it would set his blood on fire.   
  
There was a feast, a human feast. A grand table had been set out and those present sat down. The table was littered with small utensils for consuming the food but Derek had no need for them so rather than uphold their standards of civilization he placed his feet upon the table and took nuts from a bowl to roll around in his hands and crush. The humans grimaced or turned up their noses. But his mate simply squinted his eyes as if looking at a puzzle.   
  
“The ceremony for tomorrow has been modified.” The King continued. “We found a cleric who is familiar in the old ways.” Derek raised his eyebrows not sure what he was insinuating. “Our current traditions are a tad stuffy according to Mrs. Morrell who has lived with your people for over a decade. She suggested our older binding ceremony using the sword and a binding of hands.”  
  
“Acceptable.” Derek was pleased with that. It had been a fear that he would be forced to suffer through three hours of court dignitaries that his sister had promised him.  
  
“Do you wish to rest before the gathering this evening?” The King asked looking worried that Derek said so little. That was his trouble with humans, they were all about the words and gestures. Here his actions would not speak for him, his silence is considered wrong instead of strength.   
  
“I suppose.” It was expected of him. He could wash his clothes if nothing else. They missed him to a set of rooms that were at least covered in draping and fabrics so he could not feel the cold stone beneath his feet.   
  
Derek sighed and set about removing his outer wear in order to scrub the dirt from his leathers and shirt. He had finally gotten out of everything except for his riding leathers. When there was a knock at the door. He momentarily forgot about where exactly he was and said “Enter” without thought.  
  
“Sorry!” Squeaked the voice of his mate. Derek turned to face the boy who turned a deep blush of blood stained skin upon facing him. He remembered then that humans were not comfortable with nudity and Derek was naked except for the tight wrapping on his legs.   
  
“Yes?” Derek asked forgoing an apology or scolding. They would need to be comfortable with shared nudity, starting now was not a bad idea.   
  
“Um I wanted to,” the prince paused. “I got something for you.” He placed a box on the table and backed out of the room. Derek, curious walked over and opened the small wooden box. Inside was a collection of nuts and pine needles. It was one of the old gifts of his people. In the time before the nations were set his people gave nuts and pine as a courting gift. His mate was courting him. It felt odd in his chest.

* * *

  
Stiles was feeling very differently about his wedding night all of a sudden. Someone should have warned him about his husband.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in the comments a bunch of you were asking about the future of the royal line. I have made a choice. but the tags will not reflect that until we get to that point. I must keep some of my secrets.
> 
> I am so surprised none of you asked about Stiles and the King's names and how I picked them. I spent Tolkien amount of time finding them. I am hurt.*fans face*
> 
> Up next. The wedding.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wedding, and the day before. In that order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am getting better at this updating thing.

Chapter 3  
  
It’s the big day. Stiles is going to marry a man he barely knows and the move away with him. Not because he is a hostage. No that would be highly controversial and the council would never allow it. But he was required to live in wolf nation until several possible clauses were met. Most of them were good clauses but there was one bad one on there too.  
  
The point of the matter that he was getting married and that his outfit was a little ridiculous. After a very long and serious talk with his father and his advisors they had come up with a compromise. Stiles would wear their color, but the cut of the cloth would be tighter to his body. They had finally given into leaving his neck bare when Morrell had stated that she was convinced Stiles had made a great first impression.  
  
He was still nervous. It was expected to be nervous. Stiles had faced a great deal in his life, had been asked to appear calm and collected in front of their entire nation since he could hold up his head on his own. But this would not be his duty with the same watchful gazes. This was the gaze of two nations hoping he could suck it up for the peace of both.  
  
“Stop fidgeting.” Lydia slapped his hand away from the simple crown he wore. This was the plainest of his crowns, a single band of polished silver.  
  
“I am allowed to be scared.” Stiles pulled as his sleeves, resisting the urge to brush his thigh. It stung and burned but he ignored it because once he started touching the raised skin he would never stop.  
  
“I have never known you to be scared. Besides you said you liked him.” Lydia twirled in her finest dress and smiled at him.  
  
“First off I said that being married to him would not be a hardship. I was making implications about my husbandly duty and don’t make that face I know you know what I mean.” Stiles slipped into his boots. “But besides that he has barely said a word to me although I am pretty sure he keeps that little box in his pocket I don’t have a single idea about what kind of wolf he is. Also I am leaving my country in less than twelve hours. So there is that. So stop telling me calm down.”  
  
“They are ready for you sir.” A knock came at the door.  
  
“Oh god.” Stiles gasped.  
  
“Just think about his abs when you nervous.” Lydia gave him a pat on the back and shoved him out the door. Stiles had it in him to put on his royal mask the moment he was out of his chambers. The long trek down to the main hall felt a bit like a death march.  
  
The hall was filled to the brim with his countrymen. Most of whom were important people through politics or family or even money. But right at the front, where Stiles would be able to see them were the families of his friends. His fallen friends. The mothers and fathers of the boys that bleed out in a sea of pain at the northern keep. Because he is doing with for them. He is giving up everything he has ever known so that their loss isn’t meaningless.  
  
He smiles back at little Katie. She was the younger sister of his squad mate Leon. Its strange but she look genuinely pleased to see him. For the first time during the walk down the aisle he felt a real smile on his face. He turned to look at husband to be and felt the smile on his face get just a little bit bigger. Derek looked kind of stunning in his more formal leathers. It shouldn’t have been that funny that he was still wearing leather, but it was. This set at least had embroidery of leaves and a giant tree along most of the chest and back.  
  
“I like it.” Stiles told Derek under his breath as the crowd hushed for the ceremony. Derek’s eyes crinkled just a little and he nodded to Stiles. The elderly man who would proceed over the ceremony stepped down from his seat and held out a long length of ribbon.  
  
“Join hands please.” Stiles held out his left hand and Derek held out his right. The cleric looked at both of them. Shook his head and whispered “Right hands and face each other.”  
  
“We should have practiced this.” Stiles spoke without really moving his mouth.  
  
“This is better.” Derek copied the motion. So maybe his wolf husband wouldn’t be completely awful. He was pretty sure that was a joke. A deadpan dry wit kind of joke.  
  
The cleric wrapped the ribbon around their joined hands. It’s nice. Well it is nice until Stiles gets a little nervous and his palm starts to sweat. Derek raises an eyebrow almost like he knows what is going on in Stiles’ head, which would be rather crappy.  
  
“The rings please?” The cleric asks and Morrell steps from the side of the platform with a sword in her hands and atop the blade were two rings. Stiles should have been paying attention to the fact that Morrell looked lovely in her dress or that the cleric was reciting some old verse from the ancient tomes that was closer to the vows the wolves made than the normal “in sickness and in health”. Because to the wolves this was for life. That was a strange thought. That Derek was bound to him no matter his transgressions until they took their last breaths. Morrell had told him that even if Stiles died, Derek would never mate again.  
  
Morrell was closer now and the rings glint on the medal. They look different. Stiles had seen the seen the rings the ministers had picked out. There had been a set of old stately looking rings with large gold bands and covered in jewels. Stiles hadn’t been particularly fond but they were a long family tradition, one his father had broken so the ministers insisted that Stiles keep to it. Only the rings on the sword are different.  
  
Both are made of a thick silver metal that is both shiny and matte at the same time. The edges are flat in short intervals as if hand made in a smith’s shop and not by a jeweler. The cleric takes one of the rings and slides it onto Stiles’ left ring finger. He turns and does the same with the other for Derek. Stiles is caught by the fact that the rings appear to have crushed specs of diamonds or moonstone all over the surface so they appear to glitter as the night sky filled with stars. It’s breathtaking.  
  
“You like them?” Derek asks suddenly not even attempting to be quiet. Stiles is shocked and looks up to see that Derek is watching him with an unnerving intensity.    
  
“Yes.” Derek smiled and it was at that moment that the cleric announced their union sealed. With a smile still on his lips Derek Hale, Stiles’ husband leaned forward and place a kiss on his lips. It should have felt cold and strange. They had barely spoken and were doing this for their countries but it wasn’t, it was pleasant. Derek’s lips were warm and soft and his breath tasted like mint and chocolate. A low tingle broke out over Stiles’ body as the gathered audience cheered.  
  
The cleric takes the sword and with a single swing cuts the knot at the bottom of the ribbon. They unwind their hands but keep holding one end of the ribbon. They are supposed to continue holding the ribbon until the end of the day.  
  
The party that comes after is grand and loud and different. Mostly because of the giant flank of nearly raw deer at the head table. Stiles wants to throw up a little when Derek grins at the sight. But really Stiles is more focused on what is supposed to happen tonight, and the party passes without him being able to follow much of it. There is dancing and a song performed at some point. An artist sits nearby for a time and draws a small portrait of the couple and Derek asks to keep it, which of course his request is met.  
  
It wasn’t until the party began to wind down that Stiles felt like panicking. Oh god, what was he getting himself into?

* * *

  
Derek had felt bad the moment he had realized that he had been harsh the moment he was left alone with his gift. He had been worried. Concerned that this would change everything, and afraid to come to the land of men. The pack did not have a good run with humans and the last time a contract like this had been signed there had been death.  
  
Perhaps he had been too hasty in his choice to only bring leathers. There was still a day before the wedding ceremony for him to make amends for his lack of care. First thing in the morning he had risen with the sun as was his custom. While most of the city slept below him Derek rang for one of the servants, he was rather surprised to see who greeted him with a knock at his door.  
  
“How may I be of service, Beta?” Morrell greeted wearing more human garb today but still with a bare neck.  
  
“I require a tailor or leather worker and a smith.” He didn’t have that much time to do more before tomorrow morning.  
  
“Allow me to show you the way.” Morrell held his door open and the walked out of the palace towards the city. There were humans stirring around the town, mostly the craftsmen and their assistants.  
  
On second look the city had a different tone. It might be the early light or the lack of human stench but Derek did not see the cold judgemental rock from the day before. Now there was a softness to the stone and the scent of sleep and animals drifted from the homes. He also could see the scars that had been hidden yesterday, gorges in the rock that showed years of wear and tear that had not been repaired. With the war over repairs could begin again. These humans might have no love for him but Derek did not wish them harm. They were not why his people had gone to war, that blame lay on the other side of the borders of this land in the grassy hills of Argent.  
  
Morrell rapped her knuckles quickly on the door of a closed shop not far from the palace. After a pause the door opened to reveal an elderly man with large spectacles perched on his crooked nose.  
  
“My lady I have yet to begin my morning chores, perhaps you may come back at a later time.” The man said politely upon seeing Morrell. Derek stepped out from behind her and the man startled. “Forgive me.”  
  
“Forgiven.” Derek interjected before the man could ramble further on such a subject. “I need some work done before tomorrow.”  
  
“I don’t know if we would be capable of getting anything grand done in such a short period of time. I had promised the next several days off for my workers so it would be rather...” Derek reached into the pouch on his hip and retrieved the gold block Laura had provided for payment of items while in the city.  
  
“Would this be sufficient for some embroidery?” He asked the man.  
  
“I could not take such payment!” The tailor exclaimed.  
  
“Is it incorrect?” Derek asked Morrell. “My sister assured me this would be accepted.”  
  
“It’s not that I cannot take it sir. Just that for embroidery, of any kind that would be more than three times the price.” The tailor looked a little shocked and smelled faintly of pride. If Morrell had brought him to this man he must be very good.  
  
“Consider it an installment.” Derek overed the block to the man. “I shall return in the years and months to follow. My attire does not match the styles of human garb. I would need to have pieces made to supplement my stays in Beacon.”  
  
“Of course sir.” The tailor's chest puffed with pride. “It would be an honor.”  
  
After that the man took Derek’s outer layer and took measurements for later garments. The man was actually quite good from the work that was displayed in the shop and promised that his coat would have a marvelous tree on it by the morning. Derek left feeling a bit better and followed Morrell to a smith farther down into the town.  
  
This man also did a similar song and dance about accepting the gold. Derek insisted, and then kicked the man out of the smith. He felt if he was going to give his future mate a token it should be one that he made. Derek had a forge in his den back home that he worked in to be useful. Wolves were not the type to do nothing no matter the kind of power they held. So Derek made trinkets or needed item for his family in his forge.  
  
He was not an artist but he had enough of an eye to go into this blind. Combining silver and traces of platinum to his base metal gave it a funny hue that he enjoyed more than the shiny brightness of platinum or the stark matte of silver. It was a good thing that he asked about ring sizes before the meeting, because his people did not share this tradition so it seemed strange, for now he knew the size to make for Stiles.  
  
Derek ended up making four rings because he wasn’t sure about the sizing. Also he never could seem to get the crushed bits of stone to look the way he thought they should. By the time he was done the sun had set and most of the city was preparing for sleep.  
  
In the darkness Beacon again surprised him. Perhaps if the king could be persuaded to add more trees coming here would not be such a chore. When they reached the palace Derek paused on his trek back to his rooms and turned down the hall to where he had been told the king and the prince lived.  
  
Derek knocked on the door sharply.  
  
“Derek!” The king said in surprise. “Excuse me I mean, Beta Hale. What can I do for you?”  
  
“Which of these will fit the prince?” Derek asked holding out the rings on the palm of his hand. The King picked up the nearest and inspected the item.  
  
“Did you make these?” The King picked up another and compared the two rings.  
  
“Yes.” Derek felt the urge to fidge or posture. Humans tended to talk out their questions. He felt uncomfortable with words. They had too many possibilities. Actions were better, it was hard to misunderstand an act for something it was not. But he must try to speak more often for his human mate.  
  
“They are much more personal than the ones we had picked out.” The King smiled and held out one of the middle sized rings. “This one should fit my soon fine. I will have them set aside for the minister tomorrow.” Derek nodded and turned to leave but the King stopped him. “I am glad you are not completely indifferent to him.”  
  
“He is my mate.” Derek told the King’s puzzled face.  
  
“But you don’t know him.”  
  
“Mates are a sacred thing.” Derek tried to explain. There aren't words for this. For the bond they felt. It was something perfect and unbreakable. It didn’t matter if he didn’t love his mate in the sense the humans thought of, his mate was his. This would not be taken lightly or without care. Derek would not abandon the prince for anything once the vows were made and mating was complete.  
  
“Derek,” The King called out again. “I am glad that you care.” Derek nodded in acknowledgement and turned to leave.  
  
He had a long day to prepare for tomorrow. **  
**

* * *

[Come tell me about how upset you are that I am puting sexy times in the next chapter. ](http://alyseofwonderland.tumblr.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was totally going to have sex in this chapter. That was going to happen. And then i liked that ending more. So next chapter. Sexy times. 
> 
> For those of you that asked, Stiles's first name means "fierce, thought" and his middle names means "mischief". I thought it would go well with what i have planned.
> 
> Also poll of readers: next chapter- knotting or no knotting?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wedding Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please excuse mistakes. I am sick and trying to edit is hard when my eyes refuse to focus.

****Chapter 4****  
  
His father grabbed him before he was able to walk out of the party. Stiles paused and looked at his father’s flushed and worried face. Oh no, he had been hoping this would not happen. Dreading that it would but seriously hoping that they could skip this step.  
  
“Son, I want to make sure you know what you are getting into tonight.” His dad said in hushed tones that would not carry across the chamber. Still Stiles saw Derek turn and look at them with a raised brow. It appeared that the legendary wolf hearing was about to embarrass him further.  
  
“Please don’t.” He begged. Stiles glanced around hoping noone else was watching them.  
  
“I just want you to be ready...” His father blushed.  
  
“I have had sex before today day, with a guy. You know this. Please stop.” Stiles threw his hand over his father’s mouth. His dad made a face that was somewhere between grossed out and amused.  
  
“Bumm eeerree aaaaree dddfffeeent.” His dad tried to say through his hand.  
  
“Nope. I did some reading.” Stiles shook his head backing away slowly from his dad. “Don’t make me run away from you, because I will.”  
  
“Stiles.” His dad looked torn.  
  
“I will literally run from this conversation if you try to keep it going.” Stiles tried for his determined face.  
  
“I just don’t want you to..” His dad started again.  
  
“Nope!” Stiles turned and sprinted away. He heard his father call but he was having none of that. He passed Derek on the way to the chambers they were to use for tonight and ended up in the room first.  
  
What now?

* * *

  
  
The door closes with an audible thunk. His mate jumps at the sound having walked into the room and wandering idly near the bed. The scent of sweat and fear spikes with the noise and it sets Derek on edge. So he ignores him, or pretends to ignore him at least. Every sense was attuned the actions of his mate but his eyes and posture followed elsewhere.  
  
Derek walks over to the bedside table where a series of oils are placed in glass bottles with glass stoppers of different colors. He opens each to find a scent that was not too offending. The third was a light earthy scent that he recognizes as sandalwood. Derek pulls that bottle forward and then went to look at the closet.  
  
The longer he did this the slower his mate’s heart beat and by the time Derek finds extra pillows his heart was steady. The slow steps of his mate come across the floor to rest next to him.  
  
“They lock the door and the key is some special key so there is no way to pick it an escape. If that’s what you are looking for.” His mate says in mocking tones.  
  
“I’m not.” Derek sets the extra pillows on the bed. He is not particularly fond of the mattresses here.  
  
“Then what are you doing?” He asks following Derek back towards the outlandishly large bed.  
  
“Getting ready for bed.” Derek pulls off his jacket and laid it across the dressing table on the side of the bed nearest him.  
  
“But I thought...” Stiles pauses and motions at the bed and then between the two of them and then to the rings. “You know wedding night and all.”  
  
“You are nervous.” Derek points out, his heart rate has gone back up as the conversation continues.  
  
“So?” His mate huffed. “Aren’t you going to...” He now motions with his hands in a way that conveyed fangs and then pretends to swoon.  
  
“Przemysław...”  
  
“Stiles.” His mate interrupts him. “People who know me well call me Stiles.” That was a step that he could deal with, the intimacy of names.  
  
“Stiles, are you asking me to use pheromones to make you soft,” Derek steps closer, “plaintive,” he stands near enough to reach up and brush at a lock of Stiles’ hair, “and willing?”  
  
His mate’s heart increases its speed. This time it was not the frantic beat of fear but the rapid staccato of lust. It smelled like fresh rain and sweat. The deep scent of a body right before waking. Derek sucks great lungfuls of it into his chest.  
  
“You can do that?” Stiles sounds gaspy and weak, that part of Derek that was animal loves the sound and the part that was man wantes to make it keep going.  
  
“Of course.” Derek smiles as his breath caresses his mate’s face. He pulls back, rolling his weight onto his heels. “But I won’t.”  
  
“Why not?” Stiles looks startled as if coming out from a spell.  
  
“Mates should be in agreement.” Derek shrugs and walks back to the bed. He takes a seat to pull off his boots.  
  
“So we don’t have to?” His mate sounds confused and happy and sad all at once.  
  
“Your choice.” Derek responds pulling off his shirt and placing it on top of his jacket. Next he removes his pants, slowly because they were the pants he owns for horseback riding. There is a hitch of breath from the other side of the room but Derek continues stripping.  
  
“Wait so the stories are true? You have pheromones?” Stiles asks suddenly as Derek reaches for the wrapped cloth that covers the last of him.  
  
“They are less effective on humans.” Derek pauses. He has heard his mate is fond of knowledge, perhaps that was the key.  
  
“But you do have them?” Stiles asks moving closer now and looking more relaxed.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Do you use them?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Are you going to use them?”  
  
“Maybe.”  
  
“Are you going to use them on me?” A naughty glint twinkles in Stiles’ eyes.  
  
“Probably.” Derek doesn’t smile, but it was a near thing. This game was amusing and interesting.  
  
“Do you have a knot?” Stiles says with wide eyes and raised brows. Derek raises his eyebrows in response. “You know,” Stiles makes a fist and held it towards his crotch. “Big ball of muscle that drops down near the end of mating. Intended to insure pregnancy in a mate.”  
  
“You seem to be an expert.” Derek has the urge to pull off his remaining clothes but waits. All this talk of pheromones and knotting set his blood afire and all that blood was slowly leaving his head to a much better location.  
  
“Those were second hand accounts.” Stiles looks actually upset. A fizzle of excitement set up shop in his chest. There has been a fear in his heart that his mate would not be accepting, that the start of the union would not please them both. But to hear such questions from his lips changes that feeling to something much brighter.  
  
“You would prefer a first hand account.” Derek does not smile, because he does not wish to mock his mate’s curiosity. Oh but how he wishes to show him.  
  
“That would have been more ideal.” Stiles nods and then his eye get big as he realizes where this was heading.  
  
“Perhaps you could have first hand experience?” Derek offers but does not move towards the boy. He would wait. Wolves could track their prey for miles, this hunt would have a satisfying end.  
  
“Okay, right so. In the books there was all this information about mating and things like that. And the problem was no one could seem to figure out what really happened. One guy thought it had to do with...” He stumbles and throws his arms around searching for a word, “scent marking with the bodily fluids. Another guy had a whole chapter about biting and lasting scars at the neck area that seem like they are no fun whatsoever. But three separate people said something about knots, but didn’t explain that. So I went to our hound master and that was the worse conversation I have ever had ever. I just want to know if I need to like be prepared to be covered in stuff, chewed on or if I should resign myself to never riding bareback on a horse again due to muscle damage.”  
  
This display of words bring details to light as his mate moves. Derek is captivated by the length and slender tips of his hands, the curve of his mouth, the cut of his neck. His eyes follow the flesh of his pulse as it thumps and the bob of his throat with each gulp of air and forced syllable.  
  
“What would you prefer?” Derek asks ready to reveal the little gem he had been keeping secret.  
  
“I can choose?” Stiles looks shocked but his body betrays a thrill.  
  
“Its not a ceremony, it is for mates to choose.” Derek turns so they face each other. “We are free to do what we want.”  
  
“Anything?” Stiles runs his hand over the back of his neck, drawing Derek’s eyes.  
  
“As long as it satisfies the need to claim.” Derek feels the color of his eyes shift at the world sharpens for a moment.  
  
“That is sufficiently terrifying.” Stiles points to Derek’s eyes but doesn’t back up. “Do they do that a lot?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Oh okay. So you can do that thing my nightmares do. Great, good. No this will work just fine.” Stiles huffs and runs long fingers through the tuffs of hair on his head.  
  
“You have nightmares?” Derek had not been told of such things, it struck a chord in his chest. He could not have this union start with fear. It could start because of necessity or to save lives but adding fear to that mix would poison the pool forever. They did not love each other in the sense that humans thought of the word, but he was bound to him for life after this moment. It would end horribly if fear could take root in their hearts.  
  
“Um, yeah, have ever since I almost died and ended up scarred.” Stiles looks panicked and the scent of fear comes back. Derek has heard the story of course but the reality was different.  
  
“May I see?” It was important that he know these thing before they began. He did not wish to scare or hurt his mate. Wolves rarely scarred, but Peter held onto to evidence of the great fire. Derek remembers when his family had been whole, watching members paw and sooth at the hurts his uncle carried.  
  
“I don’t normally...” Stiles looks at the ceiling. “It’s not something...” He breathes a long sigh. “The scar is rather...” Derek reaches his hand out and lays it on top of Stiles’ knee. The low level pain in that single touch tells Derek so much.  
  
“Please?” Stiles looks at his eyes for a long moment. Then with shy hesitation he pulls at the buttons on his shirt. The garment comes off with aching slowness. It is followed by the clumsy pull at the ties to his pants. Derek tried not to make a noise or movement but he is intrigued by the skin that is revealed. Each inch of pale flesh dotted and speckled holds promise.  
  
When Stiles is naked save for the wrapped cloth Derek could see the marks. Down his thigh four deep gorges with red and raised flesh puckered from near the knee past the cloth. There are scars in other places. Thin lines cover paths along Stiles’ abdomen and a starburst puckers the skin above his arm pit. Despite the marks, Derek wants, he wants to run his mouth along every inch of pale skin and mark it with his scent.  
  
Derek’s fingers trace the lines unbidden and he hears the changes this causes to Stiles. The hitch of breath the small change in scent. His thumb brushes the raised edge of the scar nearest the inner thigh, Stiles releases the muscle in his leg and it falls open a fraction of an inch more. Having a memory of skin once hurt and the itch it causes Derek press his thumb into the spot and is rewarded with a moan from Stiles.  
  
He continues a path, stroking each scar with delicate brushes then pressing down and rubbing in circular motions. Each press releases tension in Stiles body. Derek holds his breath when Stiles legs fall slack and he leans back to allow Derek to continue up his body.  
  
When he reaches the puckered starburst Derek is crouched on top of Stiles who lays limp on the bed. That is when he looks at his mate’s eyes. There is a fire there that his body had hidden. Derek bares his teeth, it is not a smile but rather a show of want. Stiles breath catches and then there is skin.  
  
Warm lips press to his and Derek feels his senses fill with the sweet scent of his mate. The kiss is hesitant but there is a burn underneath its depths. He lets his weight fall down and this must be the final spark because he mate comes to life beneath him. Hands slide and grip his back, legs incircle his knees and mouths part in acceptance. He feels slightly breathless.  
  
Their limbs tangle, warm and firm as they meet together for the first time. Derek is amused to find his mate is an eager one.  Stiles tugs at their cloth and grinds his hips in quick upward motions. It felt amazing and dizzying, but tonight was about marking. Another night, Stiles could set the pace.  
  
Derek places open mouth kisses to Stile expansive throat.  He pulls his teeth along Stiles’ throat just to hear the moan. Derek moves his body and mouth slowly making their way down his mate’s chest, taking extra care with scars and the black dots that sprinkled his skin.  
  
“Derek.” Stiles gasped desperate. His legs shook and his arms flapped around. “Please hurry it up.”  
  
“No.” Derek said with a nip at Stiles’ nipple. Derek’s pace should not be confused with a lack of want. He wants. He wants very much. He wants this pale skin a his mercy forever.  
  
“It’s been awhile.” Stiles’ voice broke on the last word when Derek flicked out his tongue to lick a path up the hair that lead from his mate’s erection.  
  
He did not expect either of them to be virgins. It is strange for a wolf not to explore their tastes and he has heard the stories that men and women seek status through the love of the prince. But its better that there are no other scents that linger on his skin. That when he drinks his mates taste on his tongue it is full bodies and honey with longing.  
  
“Good.” He breathes and then tugs off the ties to reveal his prize. Stiles shudders from his breath alone and Derek can feel the thrill of such dominance travel down his spine, burning a fire in his gut.    
  
He swallows the cock it in one movement causing Stiles to cry out in surprise. He sucks and swirls his tongue until Stiles goes limp with desire.  
  
‘Finally.’ Derek thinks sitting up and reaching for the bottle of oil he set aside a moments ago. He pours the liquid over his fingers before laying back down.  
  
Derek licks against the puckered hole and a moan escapes his mate. He is good with his mouth, better at using it to cause whimpers and pleasure than to form words. It is not long before Stiles begins to gasp in increasing tempo. Derek pulls back and replaces it with a single slick finger.  
  
“I thought you were supposed to be animalistic.” Stiles said as more of a statement.  
  
Derek answered by inserting a second finger. He curves the finger until he can press the soft spot that will make his mate go wild.  
  
“It’s always the quiet ones isn’t it.” Stiles huffs and wiggles.  
  
Derek rewards him with a third finger.  
  
“If you don’t hurry this up I will be forced...” Derek slips the tip of his fourth finger in, stretching just a bit too far. Stiles gasps and squirms. Derek is ready now and pulls his fingers out rubbing them along his cock to add oil before grabbing for more.  
  
“Roll over.” Derek commands.  
  
“You are not the boss of me.” Stiles points at him with a frown and a smile all at once. His mate enjoys play. Derek can play. He leans forward so that he may speak softly into Stiles’ ear.  
  
“Do this, and next time I will ride you.” Derek vocalizes barely at a level of human hearing. It works. Stiles rockets into motion and throws himself over onto his stomach. Derek chuckles but the sound comes out as a growl and the spike in lust in the air tells him Stiles likes the noise.  
  
Derek slides into his mate with aching slowness. Each inch going a bit faster than the one before it. Until he feels himself reach the end of his length. It would be polite to wait, to give his mate a moment to adjust and savor this moment, but Derek is done waiting.  
  
He has been waiting all day while the humans did their dance. This is what matters, marking and taking what will be his forever. So he moves, but he never loses himself in the moment. He goes slow and steady and angles until he finds the sweet spot that makes Stiles cry. He leans over his mate and wraps a hand around his neglected length and receives with a return backward thrust.  
  
“For all that is good and holy in this world please move faster.” Stiles cried after an eternity of that pace.  
  
“No.” Derek grunts. He doesn't want to go faster. This is fine. If this ends now they will separate and sleep or maybe not sleep. But this night and this moment will be over and Derek prefers to savor his experiences. He can ignore the clenching in his balls and the strain on his back as long as he can breathe this in as long as he desires.  
  
“Derek, please. Just go faster or something. Anything. You can bite me or mark me or whatever it is that you need just please go faster!” Stiles half screams, pounding his fists against the mattress. “This is me giving you, uh......, permission.” Stiles gasps as Derek hits that golden spot. “I want all of it already!”  
  
The plea breaks his hold. Shatters it into a thousand pieces that he can’t hold. His hips rock forward and he leans down and grips his mate’s neck. The pace is brutal and the frame of the bed shakes. Each thrust get shallower as his knot expands forcing Derek to thrust in half motions. It reaches it’s full size and Stiles practically screams in ecstasy. At this new pace and angle he is stretching out Stiles and pounding into the boy’s prostate.  
  
His climax comes barrelling out of nowhere at this speed. Derek can barely breathe before his teeth snap down and lock onto the long slender column of his mate’s neck. His hand vibrates down Stiles’ length as he feels his mate come just as hard.  
  
Derek hadn’t planned to do that. Had thought to save it for later when he knew they were bonded and that Stiles had accepted him better. But he had lost all hold of himself at climax and the expanse of his knot keeps them in place. Its a strange and dizzy feeling to have lost such control.  
  
Derek rolls so that he was on his side with Stiles sprawled next to him while they waited this out. Like this he could hold Stiles and feel his heartbeat on his palm. Post orgasim haze settles over his mind and Derek feels the urge to cuddle.  
  
“Wow.” Stiles says after a heartbeat of being motionless and silent. Then, “Ow.”  
  
“I didn’t mean for this.” Derek apologizes.  
  
“You bit me.” Stiles sounds a bit stunned.  
  
“Yes.” Derek isn’t sure what to do now. Normally a mate would be pleased and rest until the knot relented. But his mate seems to be more awake now than ever.  
  
“I liked that.” Stiles’ voice was dazed and pleased but rapid all at once.  
  
“Um...”  
  
“I knew I was into biting, its like my favorite. But wow. Yeah. Gold crown winner here. So much better when you do it. Wolf teeth are better.” Stiles rambled. His mate moved when he spoke and the shift caught at Derek, in a way that made his eyes roll back in his head. “Wait what was that. Oh you did it again. Is it when I move, because really this feels weird. It is when I move isn’t it. Oh my you are sensitive aren’t you? This is just too much right now isn’t it?” Stiles begins to wiggle more.  
  
“Cease.” Derek growls attempting to grab Stiles’ hips in order to hold them still while his cock throbs it’s way down to normal size. But the grip does not stop the movement because his mate is apparently deft when it comes to all the muscles and clenches and unclenches around him.  
  
“There is something wrong about the fact that you only make noises after sex.” Stiles giggles softly.  
  
Derek growls and bites down on Stiles neck, on top of the previous bite. Stiles goes limp and moans.  
  
“Oh fuck yes.” Stiles stops clenching at the knot and stretches his neck for further attention. “Naps and then more of that.” He mumbles softly. Then he slips slowly into an exhausted sleep. Derek would find it amusing if he was not quickly following his mate into dreamland.  
  
Derek doesn’t even notice when the knot disappears and he can slip free. The bite on his mate’s neck is angry and red but will look better in the morning. Derek nuzzles into the hollow licking the mark clean in a lazy pace.  
  
He sleeps with the taste of Stiles on his tongue.

* * *

[Come tell me how that was the worst sex scene you have ever read. ](http://alyseofwonderland.tumblr.com/)

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing this was way harder than I thought it would be. This has been my first stab at writing gay sex. I think the next time this happens its gonna be a bit more simplistic. but yes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is not how Honeymoons are supposed to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last night on tumblr I promised to have this up in 24 hours. It was 10 pm then. it is 9 pm now. I win. I win.  
> Also Laura and Peter are divas to write. They do not want to behave. I had to wrestle their dialogue down because they both wanted to steal the scene.

**Chapter 5**  
  
Stiles doesn’t cry when he hugs his dad but it is a near thing.  
  
The morning had dawned bright and early with Stiles feeling like a used cloth. It wasn’t a bad feeling but he had hurt everywhere in a kind of sore way that reminded him of when he had done his training. Derek had proved to be an early riser and was already out of the bed when Stiles finally swam to consciousness.  
  
He might have considered it more of treat to see Derek next to him in the bed but the sight that did greet him was equally appealing. Apparently, his husband took strict care of himself and even went through knights training first thing in the morning. So perhaps waking up to find a half naked sweaty husband on the floor muscles straining with each lift was just as good as waking up next to the man.  
  
After that it had been a whirlwind of activity. Stiles and Derek were to leave for the wolf nation as soon as possible. Derek’s people would not accept the mating until their traditions were satisfied.  
  
So there he was standing in the great hall hugging his father and trying not to cry. It didn’t go so well. Yesterday he had been nervous and worried about the wedding but today the reality of the situation was really starting to sink in. It wasn’t like he was never coming back, but it was close. The treaty had been very specific, Stiles had read it four times just to be sure he knew what he was getting himself into.  
  
Derek was no help here. Maybe last night had been a fluke or a one time thing because today his husband barely said a word. Stiles was not sure if that was a comfort or not at this point. Before the wedding night he had resigned himself to a fate and for a brief moment he had thought he had been wrong.  
  
But Derek is silent throughout the extend goodbyes from the court, close to nonverbal as they leave the city, and damn near stoney as they set off.  
  
So Stiles focused on things other than his silent companion. He turned his thoughts to the slowly vanishing sight of his home. Stiles had only left Beacon twice in his life, one for his military service and the other time for a diplomatic visit to their neighboring human nation Argent. The first time he had known he was coming back, it was only for a week to see if they could get him to marry the Argent heir apparent. The second time Stiles had been lucky to return. He can’t decide which this is going to be.  
  
He gets tired faster than he expects. Derek seems to never tire or need breaks for water. Stiles doesn’t want to appear like the weak link, but eventually he caves and just stops.  
  
It takes Derek about a second to realize that something is wrong and turns around to see what the matter is. Well, at least he knows that Derek isn’t ignoring his existence.  
  
“Are you alright?” Derek looks confused and it would be funnier if Stiles didn’t want to die of thirst.  
  
“Just tired. Thirsty.” He waves Derek off and sits down near the road to rest a moment. Derek stands watching him for a heartbeat before he gets back on his horse and turns back onto the road. Stiles wants to say something like “what the fuck?” or “come back here you crazy wolf” but he just sits there limply feeling awful. Turns out his husband isn’t interested in him after all. Big surprise.  
  
Stiles has just got a good stink going on, full on pout and a dose of self loathing when Derek returns with a dripping water skin. He dismounts and hands the skin to Stiles without a word. Stiles is left blinking hungrily at the water and watching his husband check the horses to see that they are holding up as well.  
  
Huh.  
  
The first day of travel goes mostly of the same. Stiles tries to be tough but eventually his leg gives him trouble and they stop for the night. It is on the second day that Stiles realizes Derek is acting a little differently. They are paused just under the southern tips of the mountains; their route followed the mountains out and away from Beacon and now they are staring at the great plain that makes up the pass. Derek is jumpy, upset, and won’t sit still for even a moment. Before this Derek has been nothing but silent and stoney.  
  
“Are you feeling okay?” Stiles asks finally when he can’t stand the fidgeting. If only Lydia could see him now, she would die laughing. He was the one to cave first and ask, it seems like some kind of defeat.  
  
“No.” Derek says and starts pacing again.  
  
“Is there something I can do?” Stiles hears himself ask. He has no idea what he could do. What could he possibly do?  
  
“No.” Derek shakes his head and Stiles is struck by how much the movement looks like the ancient wolves. Derek’s people come from those animals and some of the professors think that the ancient wolves and that of the docile creatures that now live among man.  
  
Stiles gives up. If Derek doesn’t talk to him how is he to know what is wrong. Stiles tried to talk to Derek about it, he really does. But every time he asks what is wrong Derek gets crankier. It’s infuriating and impossible to deal with. Stiles comes from the world of expressing pain and milking it for snuggles. Well not always snuggles, because Lydia would demand pastries or shoes when she is upset. But the thing is that he has no point of reference for behaviour like this, so he ends up silent and half miserable.  
  
The third day is the worst. They reach the neutral zone near the border. It’s visible from miles off, the lack of grass and the trenches stand out on the otherwise pristine landscape. The loose hills of the pass are streaked with rust colored dirt and blood left over from a war that was cruel on both sides. Stiles wants to gallop past this point a full speed and never look back, but he also wants to cry and stop when he sees the familiar structure up ahead.  
  
Stiles had been posted at the base for safety reasons. True they didn’t want him to be coddled because he was the heir but there was a difference between codling and being reckless. So Stiles had gone through the hellish basic training that his years of ‘knight’ practices had not prepared him for. Sword mastery is not the same as learning to fight wolves, being attacked constantly for days so you know the exhaustion you will feel.  
  
Then there was the guys. Stiles had never had a great deal of friends. Sure he could count the other noble kids as the people he could talk to, but they always considered their words around him. In training his identity had been kept from the general population, he was just one of the guys. He had friends, real friends. They joked and laughed and got the shit kicked out of them by their instructors. It was all the things that Stiles had missed growing up.  
  
In a matter of months Stiles had friends he was willing to die for. Only they died for him instead. The worst part was that most of them didn’t even know who was. They knew the real him sure, but he edited so many parts of his life out of stories he told. They never really understood why his dad refused to let him spend money on some of the finer things in life (because the people pay for their living and its unfair to the country for Stiles to afford something the majority of the people can’t.)  
  
But a few had known, there had been drinks involved. Stiles had been horrified that morning knowing they would treat him differently. Then Sebastian had hit him on the ass with towel and demanded he get out of the bed so they didn’t have to run laps because of his stupid hangover.  
  
After that there was only blood. Stiles forced his mind away from those memories, despite the throb in his thigh that tells him the nightmares will hunt him this night.  
  
Stiles is so caught up in his thoughts that at first he doesn’t notice that Derek seems better, or at least relaxed. The wolf no longer looks ready to tear out a throat or run off into the woods. With each passing mile Derek looks and acts more like the person Stiles met the first day. He sits taller on his horse and the hard lines of his face deepen into a frown.  
  
It worries Stiles, that home seems to make Derek frown, that the person he first met seems to be the person that Derek really is. There is something wrong about all of this, these weird masks and personas that his husband seems to have.  
  
He considers this as the trees appear in the distance. At first they are just a line of green on the horizon and then they are a massive wall in the distance.  
  
“Those are the great reds?” Stiles asks as they move towards the impressive shadow the trees throw out onto the plains.  
  
“Yes.” Derek’s face twitches for a moment and Stiles thinks maybe it was part of a smile.  
  
“Do they really go as high as Beacon in the depths?”  
  
“Higher.” This time it is a real smile.  
  
The information makes Stiles itch. So little is known about the ancient homes of the wolves, located so deep in the forest that light barely touches the ground. The Depths of the forest are something the wolves guard with more ferocity than the border. No human, ally or otherwise, has ever made it even close to the depths of the forest. It would be an adventure of a lifetime to see the depths.  
  
It is only when they are under the trees and movement surrounds them that Stiles sees the changes. There is no road, or at least the clear path into the trees disappears. Trails go off in a thousand different directions and the large trunks are marked to hell with claw trails in patterns that seem meaningless.  
  
“How do you traverse this?” Stiles asks without thinking.  
  
“Smell.” Derek answers leaning forwards on his horse.  
  
“Really? What if it rains? What if there is animal migration? What if some weird bloody person stumbles around and messes it up?” Stiles has to wonder, because really, their sense of smell has to be messed up by things.  
  
Derek just points to the claw marks on the tree trunks.  
  
“That is the opposite of helpful. I would like to point that out now.” Stiles rolls his eyes at the motion and expects to be ignored. Instead Derek turns back and looks at him with a puzzled expression and a slight cocking of his head. He really does look like a dog in that moment. “Just saying, that’s not how you answer questions.”  
  
Derek nods and turns back.  
  
So this is going well.

* * *

  
Derek feels ready to claw is skin off during travel. He hates it frankly. He didn’t bring a horse here and he wants none on the way home but the king insisted, so he gave in and rode.  
  
He hated the smell of the horses. It rubbed his nose raw and made him want to eat them whole, raw meat sounds appetizing at this moment.  
  
The only thing keeping him sane the whole four days worth of travel is the angry mark on his mate’s neck. It throbs with his pulse and the skin breaks every so often when it is scratched or turned too quickly. It won’t heal cleanly. Derek has to resist the urge to rub dirt in it or salt, to keep the scar raised.  
  
At least he has that, the mark to stake his claim before he reaches home. The human ceremony might be over but his scent on Stiles was weak and they had no opportunity to increase it on the road. Not that Derek didn’t want to, there was just no way, no oils handy and no coverage or safety.  
  
He didn’t sleep on the road. Too many risks out in the darkness, so little place to hide in the open landscape. The the mountains came, with their pull and magnetism. Derek felt himself torn by a force he couldn’t control and it drove him mad. He hated his lack of control in this land. It unsettled him and made him tense.  
  
The sight of the reds should have made that all go away. The coverage and safety of the ancient trunks should feel like a blanket coming to cover his exposed back. But it doesn’t, because with each passing mile they get closer to the great hall and closer to his family.  
  
Derek should be most worried about Peter. Angry, violent, insolent and irrational Peter who hates humans with a passion that can never be quenched. But Peter has so little power these days, his pack his gone and he is without a mate or cubs. Peter will lash out and mock until someone hits him down a peg.  
  
But Laura, Laura is the issue. Peter’s hate is personal but Laura’s hate is that of an alpha. It was the burning hate of a general at war. Laura had seen the widows and widowers the war had created. She counted those numbers and held them close to her heart. And while it might be true that the wolves came out on top as far as losses, some of those losses were irreplaceable.  
  
She would be perfect of course. The alpha his parents would want, and nothing of how she used to be before the fires raged in the skies. Luara would welcome his mate with open arms, and a closed heart. They would never let Stiles be pack, not in the ways that counted to them. Sure he would be allowed to eat with them, and invited to the events. But his sister would never dream of marking his mate as hers.  
  
It left a hole in his chest. A hole that expanded as the great hall came into view.

* * *

  
Stiles isn’t sure what he was expecting. Maybe mud huts, or houses made out of pine needles. But instead the trees broke to reveal a hill and at the peak of the hill stood a massive hall made of the same red wood that the forest grew.  
  
Smaller structures dotted the sides of the hill creating a miniature city. Only there were things missing from this scene. Horses were hardly there at all, the only ones seemed to be pulling carts around the base of the hill. The lack of stables stood out, but what really seemed odd was the lack of doors on most of the dwellings. Or rather doors near the ground. Many of the openings to the structures were several feet off the ground. That had not been in the books.  
  
Stiles was trying not to freak out. He maybe succeeded because Derek didn’t give him the ‘what is wrong with you face’ look that seemed to pop up every time Stiles panicked. The left their horses at the base of the hill and began the climb to the top. And it was a climb, that was no pushover hill, it was steep and there was no clear path or steps. Derek moved over the land swiftly without notice but Stiles was out of breath and wanted to lay down on the ground to die when they reached the top. Unfortunately there was no stopping. Derek pushed open the giant wall of the great hall, which it turned out was not a wall but just a door with no handles or markings.  
  
Stiles had to catch his breath upon entering. Not because of the hike of the hill or the confusion over the ways doors worked (that he was going to do later, and maybe for a while he was going to have some door related accidents) but instead because of the inside of the hall. From the outside it was just a simple structure with four plain walls, but the inside was magnificent.  
  
Every surface, beams, ceiling, walls, tables, legs, every single surface was carved. And it wasn’t just a single carving repeated and miniaturized over the different spaces. Instead the carvings showed a sloping epic, a story through wood and motion. At the entrance the carvings showed massive trees and figures of ancient wolves. Moving forward the trees melted into a battle where figures of men threw weapons and the wolves ate faces of screaming men. Then came the wolves wearing the skin of the slain men and standing on their hind legs.  
  
The wolves begin to climb down from the trees and then there are images of structures and  tools in the hands of the wolf creatures. Buildings and fires and cubs that look like humans appear in the mosaic of images. Then it stops and for a while there is nothing but mountainscapes and wolves huddled at the base.  
  
“The great range, our natural barrier.” Said a woman’s voice next to Stiles. He jumped, startled. He was so used to stone floors the echoed every sound to a thousand times that the slow creak of wood had given no indication to some one approaching.  
  
“It’s amazing.” Stiles tried for something more complicated but words failed him in her presence. Her eyes glowed blood red near inches from his face. Her face was lean with sharp cheekbones like Derek but her hair was a different shade and her nose had a more regal tilt. Her hair was braided back from her face but it fell in long waves down her back, twigs and patches of leaves clung to the loose strands.  
  
“You are different.” She says her gaze razoring him into little pieces.  
  
“Different how?” Stiles could feel a small voice in the back of his head telling him to shut the fuck up and stop speaking but he couldn’t the gates were open and there was no stopping the words now. Stiles wanted to look around for Derek but he remembered reading about it being bad forum to look away from a wolf when they spoke to you, so his eyes stayed on the woman.  
  
“Than I expected.” She tilted her head to look down her nose at him.  
  
“Well surprises are good things.” Stiles smiles. She does not.  
  
“I hate surprises.” She blinked at him slowly and Stiles really started to understand who he was talking to. The red in her eyes starts warning bells in his brain and an itch at the back of his neck tells him what he hasn’t put together yet. Laura. The Alpha.  
  
“Well what were you expecting?” Stiles swallows and feels her eyes track the movement, and then linger on the teeth marks that Derek left on his neck.  
  
“Weakness.” There is a horrible little smile on her lips.  
  
“That’s good. Can’t have weakness. At least I am not that right?” Every nerve in his body was on high alert now and his thigh throbbed and ached with tension he didn’t know he was holding.  
  
“No. Instead you bring mischief. Neither of which I tolerate.” Laura snapped her teeth at him and then she was gone. Just gone. He blinked and Stiles was staring at air.  
  
The wood creaked and Derek stomped over to him looking furious.  
  
“Don’t wander off. It’s not safe.” Derek grabs Stiles by his arm and drags him towards an antichamber he had not seen before.  
  
“Yeah I can gather that.” Stiles mumbled under his breath.  
  
“There is no love for your kind in this hall.” Derek must have heard him because he felt the need to elaborate.  
  
“Are you saying that you aren’t a fan of me or everyone else?” Stiles was not sure why he asked but it felt like something he needed to know. Derek stopped walking and turned to face him, staring Stiles down.  
  
“You are my mate.”  
  
“You keep saying that like its all you need to say.” Stiles could feel his breath breath bounce off Derek’s face. Derek’s eyes jumped to Stiles mouth for a blink and then went back to staring Stiles down.  
  
“It is.” Derek turned on his heel so quickly that Stiles felt a sense of whiplash when he was suddenly dragged back into motion. They walked through doors and back rooms before reaching a room with a small table with three men sitting around it.  
  
The oldest man sat at the center of the room watching the door with a quiet calm that had the unmoved quality of a predator. The other two were much younger and set off on opposite sides of the room, like they were watching each other or something. Derek pulled to an abrupt halt upon seeing the gathering.  
  
“Peter.” Derek looked only at the older man, never taking his eyes off him.  
  
“Derek.” The older man nodded and then turned his gaze to Stiles. It felt like a burn or a brand on his skin. Peter’s eyes did not glow the red of an alpha but the madness they held might be worse. “Which do you choose?” Peter directed this at Stiles.  
  
“What?” Stiles tried looking between all gathered but that was pointless really. Derek was too busy staring at this Peter person and the other two refused to look up from the floor. Peter just stared at Stiles and the blatant look of hatred on his face didn’t help.  
  
“They are half human. You may have one for your pack.” Peter rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Choose.”  
  
“How am I supposed to choose?” Stiles asks Derek. His husband pulls an eyebrow up, but still doesn’t look away from Peter.  
  
“A wolf knows who will make good pack. You have to use your instinct.” There is a slight rise and fall of Derek’s shoulders that has to be his silent version of a shrug.  
  
Right. Okay then. Stiles has to pick one of these boys to be his pack. Which from what he remembers roughly translates into family and servants all at the same time. He picks one and he is stuck with him until someone either fights the member for entry or they die. So, no pressure.  
  
The one on the left is taller. He has slightly blond hair that is tangled in a series of curls, the tops of which are covered in mud. His face his elagant with the cheekbones that most of the wolves seem to posses. But his face looks angry and sad.  
  
The other boy had floppy brown hair and his clothes are covered in green grass stains that merge down his arms to where grass is caught under his nails. His face is maybe less perfect, it looks more like the faces in Beacon. He is also sad but rather than angry he looks lonely.  
  
“Him.” Stiles points to the boy on the right.  
  
“Scott. Gather your things.” Peter gives the command and the boy nods and leaves. The other boy doesn’t move. “Isaac, I believe you have work to do.” With a loud huff he leaves as well.  
  
“Stop.” Derek commands the other man when he moves to stand.  
  
“Don’t be upset, nephew. He just confirmed the assumption that they can tell their own kind apart.” Peter laughed and leaned back in his chair.  
  
“Strange, I remember you courting Melissa once.” Derek showed his teeth. Stiles thought it was that at least, it looked nothing like a smile.  
  
“The difference is that I did that in a time of peace. Not war.” Peter examined his nails and pretended to look bored.  
  
“The war is over.” Stiles knew it was the wrong thing to say the moment it was out of his mouth.  
  
“Is it now?” Peter grinned.  
  
“Peter.” Derek growled.  
  
“No, let the little human speak.” Peter tilted his head. “I would love to hear what he has to say.” There was a long pause. “Before he becomes pack.”  
  
“I...”  
  
“Silence.” Derek snaps, the click of his teeth audible in the stilled air.  
  
“Oh, cute. You don’t want him to insult me.” Peter smiled. “Allow me to solve this problem.”  
  
It happened so fast that Stiles could only piece together the actions afterwards, because in that moment it appeared as if there were suddenly a thousand splinters flying through the air. In retrospect Peter must have flung the table at the wall, and it shattered into thousands of splinters at that force. Stiles flinched at the onslaught of wood but Derek stood still.  
  
“See?” Peter showed his teeth. “All better.” Then the older man turned and left.  
  
Stiles stood there next to Derek waiting for an explanation, or some kind of concern. But his husband simply narrowed his eyes at the space his uncle had vacated.  
  
“What was that about?” Stiles wonders when he can’t stand it anymore.  
  
“Power. Rank. Grief.” Derek shakes his head and comes out of his reprieve.  
  
“Oh.” Stiles tries to process that. He knew that until they completed the wolves mating ritual that he was not a part of Derek’s pack. Stiles is vulnerable, and there are things about the habits of wolves that he knows nothing about.  
  
Standing there, covered and surrounded by splinters of a table it really sunk in. Stiles was in enemy territory, he was not safe, he was not home. And the only thing between him and an entire country of wolves was the man standing next to him. It twisted pain that sits low in his gut and sticks his legs to the floor. There is no going home. This is his reality now.  
  
Scott appears in the door that he left from earlier holding a small pack with cloth sticking out of different ends. The other boy surveys the room and shakes his head. The boy turns to them and leans so his neck is exposed. Derek doesn’t move except for a raise of brows and Scott gives pleading eyes to Stiles.  
  
“Accepted.” Stiles states. It’s what he read an alpha is supposed to say to a new packmate. It seems to be the right thing because Scott stops leaning his head and smiles like Stiles hung the moon.  
  
Derek nods and heads out a door that Stiles had previously overlooked. They say nothing for a long while. But when they exited the building Stiles couldn’t contain himself anymore. He really needed to know where they were going, or what just happened or anything for that matter.  
  
“Where are we going? What just happened? Can we talk about some of this before I put my foot it in?” Stiles realized the words were out before he even thought them.  
  
“My den.” Derek said with a little smile on his face. It was a smile Stiles knew. This was the smile that Derek had the other night as he crawled down Stiles’ body.  It was a secret smile and spoke of things that were going to happen at this den. Stiles felt himself get hard and strain against his riding pants. Derek took a deep breath in through his nose and the gleam in his eyes turned predatory. Oh, he was doomed. So doomed.  
  
As if to make a point on this fact Scott sniffed in a pleased way.  
  
Stiles was not going to survive this place.

* * *

[Dun Dun Dun!](alyseofwonderland.tumblr.com)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are lucky to have this chapter. I almost didn't finish it because I couldn't seem to end the damn thing. Then I realized I could just leave you with unanswered questions for next time. That sounds like a good idea.  
> Also you may now begin freaking out about the additional tags I added. I am here with my bowl to suck up your tears and joy.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turns out the wolves have a very different idea of what it means to be mated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank Trilliath for helping with this one. She is responsible for the biting, the tattoo and the speed of this chapter.

****Chapter 6****  
  
Stiles isn’t sure exactly what he is expecting when Derek says ‘den’ but the thing in front of him is not what he was thinking. It’s a forge. An actual working forge in basically the middle of nowhere with a cabin tucked into the base of one of the giant red trees. The cabin is near impossible to see because there is foliage covering most of it and the windows and sides seem to be constructed to look like the living tree.  
  
But the forge. Derek is a blacksmith apparently? Thats seems like something he should have known before now. There is another wolf in the forge who pauses in his labors to greet their group as they come to small clearing.  
  
This wolf is huge and covered in sweat and soot. He stands at the entrance of the forge waiting until they are close. Derek nods at the man and holds out his hand, the big guy puts a stack of papers in Derek’s hand.  
  
“These all the orders?” Derek fiddles with the edges of the papers.  
  
“All the ones you have to do.” The wolf looks at Stiles with a secret kind of smile in his eyes. “After your mating of course.”  
  
“Boyd, show Scott around. “ Derek motions and then walks towards the cottage. Stiles stands idle for a while with nothing to do before he realizes he should follow. The issue is getting into the house though. Derek seems to just place a foot somewhere on the tree and suddenly he is up in the window. Stiles stands there for a minute really concerned looking at the window and then at the tree, and then back at the window again.  
  
Derek’s head come back out of the window and he stares at Stiles for a minute before his eyebrows suddenly go up into his hairline and he disappears again. Stiles cannot believe it. His husband just forgot he was human. That is the thing he just experienced. Stiles kind of wants to bang his head against the tree in frustration. First crazy pants family, then Stiles has a servant or a pack or something, and now his husband proves to be forgetful.  
  
Rope hits Stiles in the face. Rope. Hits. Him. In The Face.  
  
Stiles stares at it. Just looks at the rope and then looks up to the window to see Derek kind of watching him and then looks back at the rope. Stiles is not amused.  
  
“No.” Stiles shakes his head. “No.”  
  
“I will carve hand holds into the tree in the morning.” Derek just watches him. Stiles wants to use the rope to strangle the guy. But also Stiles wants a bed and a bath. And he has the sneaking suspicion he will get both on the other side of that window.  
  
“I should be rewarded for this.” Stiles points at Derek so that he understand this is a serious statement.  
  
“I had planned on that.” Derek’s eyes glow for a moment. It’s an electric current to his dick. It’s really unfair that Stiles ended up in a political marriage with a guy that is extremely hot and also some kind of seduction manipulator.  
  
Stiles climbs the rope. He hates every moment of the climb but he does it. He would like evidence of his climb sent back to his fencing and swordsmanship instructor who swore he would never master the art. Stiles hadn’t actually ever mastered it, he was good, better than most but he was never going to beat his instructor.  
  
The first thing Stiles realizes when he finally pulls himself inside the home is that they are in the bedroom. That’s, unexpected. Stiles kind of points at the bed for a second because his brain has been shutting down in slow increments as each day without a bed and bath passed. Derek looks at Stiles for a moment and then realizes something from the motion clearly.  
  
“Anyone you invite into your home should be trusted enough to see you sleeping.” Derek does his strange wolf shrug that seems off to Stiles’ human eyes and meanders out of the room. The bedroom is sparse and kind of bare but its also rather comfortable. Everything has that used worn look to it that speaks of years of use. The floor is lighter in some places where the finish has worn off the wood. The whole place is actually made of wood. Stiles senses a theme here.  
  
The bed is large and covered in blankets and furs thrown haphazard and lumpy, like the bed was abandoned that way just this morning. There are several chests about the edges of the room each a different shade of wood with a different pattern of carving. The thing that most catches Stiles’ eye is the rocks. There are a lot of rocks. In fact every surface has at least one rock sitting on it. None of them are the same shape or shade or even remotely polished.  
  
Out of curiosity Stiles sticks his head out if the room to see that along the stairwell to the lower floor there are more stones. Each step holds a stone at either end of the stairs so that you can still walk down the center.  
  
Derek is a hoarder. Stiles has to sit down.  
  
So that was how Derek found Stiles, sitting on the floor holding a shiny blue rock like it might hold the secrets of the world.  
  
“The bath is ready.” Derek leaned in and tried to take the stone but Stiles was not about to give up his new token.  
  
“What is this?” Stiles held the stone up so that it was tucked under his chin.  
  
“Bronite.” Derek huffs, and then tugs at Stiles until he stands and follows Derek down the stairs. Stiles follows like a lamb because he is too exhausted to do much else. He catches glimpses of the lower floor and sees that somehow living branches function as divisions to the different areas of that floor. Also that most of the surfaces have a least one stone. They are going to have a conversation about that.  
  
Derek pulls open a grated area on the floor, the only metal in the entire setting of the house and reveals a set of stone steps that descend into earthen walls. They are going underground. The steps end in a tile room.  
  
Stiles is impressed. It’s a bathroom, and old fashion one too. One of the ones they have in the old parts of the city. The tile covers the entire room, including the ceiling. There are gaps to let steam out of thin pipes but in the center of the room sits an enormous copper tub with embers below it. In one corner is a tap that Derek must use to pull water up from an underground well.  
  
The tub smells amazing. Stiles cannot get out of his clothes fast enough, he really can’t. In fact he gets half of his vest off before he gets it stuck on his elbow and he is trapped looking, he is sure, like a tangled baby fawn. Derek, who has done nothing but watch, appears to be trying not to smirk.  
  
“Put down the rock and I will help.” Derek offers from his post near the stairs. Stiles glares but sets the stone down. The second he does Derek snatches it up and disappears up the stairs.  
  
“Hey!” Stiles shouts after him, struggling to free himself from his clothes. But before Stiles can come up with more of a protest Derek is back, without his shirt.  
  
Oh, well that’s different.  
  
“Are we not going to talk about the stones? Because I would like to talk about what is clearly a rather impressive collection.” Stiles talks so that he has something to do with his mouth, because his mouth would really like to be a part of what is going on with his husband’s shoulders right now.  
  
Strong hands strip him of his stiff and filthy leathers. Stiles pulse rockets and there is drumming in his ears. It seems impossible but he had forgotten this. Forgotten what Derek looks like with hunger in his eyes and seduction on his lips.  
  
It’s an agonizing slow process getting him out of his clothes, and when he is finally bare Stiles suddenly had no idea what to do with himself. Before there had been a bed and a sure promise of sex. Now there is a tub and some playful overtatures.  
  
But then he looks at Derek. His husband stands in nothing but his leather pants. For some reason it is not his sculpted chest or his face that catches Stiles’ eyes. The thing that throws him so completely under the hill is Derek’s feet. Something about the fine bones and the pale skin pulled over them just wretches Stiles.  
  
When he looks back up Derek is watching and there is a hint of a smile. Derek’s eyes never leave Stiles as his husband strips out of his pants and then slips slowly into the tub. Stiles gulps.  
  
“Get in.” Derek orders. Stiles feels like eventually they are going to have a conversation about the lack of two way communication in this marriage. But right now, right now he climbed in that tub with about as much grace as he could muster.  
  
“Ohhhhhhh.” Stiles moans when his body realizes where it is and all the muscles in his body go limp with pleasure. A much worse sound comes out of his mouth when Derek presses a sturdy thumb into the arch of his foot.  
  
“Are you trying to distract me from the rocks with foot rubs?” Stiles asks when Derek slips his hand around one foot.  
  
“No.”  
  
“Are you trying to distract me from that whole business with your uncle with foot rubs?” Stiles tries again.  
  
“No.”  
  
“This Scott person?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“The fact that you are a blacksmith?”  
  
“No.”  
  
Derek might be smirking now.  
  
“Fine. What are you doing?” Stiles huffs and almost pulls his foot out of Derek’s grasp. Almost-  he is not that strong.  
  
“Fulfilling a promise to my mate.” Derek grins and his palms slide up Stiles’ thighs. How he manages to work his thumbs and forefingers into the knots in Stiles’ muscles is a mystery. But each inch releases another sore spot, another tension. Derek hasn’t even touched his dick and Stiles is ready to beg for it.  
  
“What promise is that?” Stiles can hear the way his voice breaks and his blushes all down his chest in response.  
  
“To ride you.” Derek’s eyes flash brilliant colors and then he descends.  
  
Stiles would like to be the the first to say that his new husband apparently does not fault on his promises. Nope. He goes in head first and devours. Stiles has to pull back for air almost seconds after they start because Derek has attached himself to Stiles’ mouth. It’s magic and wonderful but it’s also impossible to breathe.  
  
Turns out that maneuver must be punished, or rewarded, by neck biting. Or mouthing really. His tongue traces the scabs left by the last time they did something like this. It hurts, in a good way. Stiles can feel teeth and it makes is body lose control. His feet kick out and the edges of the tub and his hands spasm along Derek’s back.  
  
“...with the biting.” Stiles is able to get out between a scrape of teeth and a broad stroke of tongue but the column of his throat.  
  
Somehow in the middle of having his neck destroyed Stiles manages to get his hand’s on Derek’s ass. It’s made of marble, Stiles would like the scribes and the sculptors to take a look at it later to confirm his hypothesis.  
  
Stiles squeezed down when Derek got a particularly rough scrape against his neck. He was rewarded with Derek bucking against him in response. He knows his neck is probably a big red purpely mess by now, his dick is happy enough to prove that, so it’s a miracle that Stiles has the brainpower to get his finger’s in Derek’s ass.  
  
Things get sloppy from there. The soapy water spills over the sides as the rock against each other and Derek grips at Stiles’ fingers. Neither of them are graceful right now, it’s frenzied and messy rutting. Stiles barely gets three fingers in before it’s just too much, he needs in Derek now. He tries to say something, ask permission, but for the five minutes the only things coming out of Stiles’ mouth are obscene noises.  
  
Stiles slips in and then things get fuzzy. It’s hard to find a rhythm that works because he can’t get any traction on any surface and it’s maddening. His thrusts need to be a just a bit faster and harder and it will be just right. It drives Stiles wild. He just fucking needs it to feel right. Damn it.  
  
Derek must sense this because he takes a rather painful grip on Stiles hair and starts fucking himself on Stiles. That’s better, closer, more of what Stiles needs. And the mouthing doesn’t hurt. Derek’s teeth and their relentless paths on his throat.  
  
“Just fucking bite me already.” Stiles nearly screams when he can feel his climax approaching. Derek growls, and then complies. The burst of pleasure pain is what Stiles needed. He comes in a blinding shock that takes everything out of him.  
  
Stiles is a limp noodle. There is no moving him, not even when he feels the hot burst of Derek’s come across his chest. Stiles is waving the white flag. He has surrendered his land. They will have his name in the records forever as the guy that gave up after sex. It will be on his tombstone.  
  
Derek laughs a little when Stiles just flops around with limp limbs after he moves away. Stiles would resent the hell out of that but right now he is too happy and boneless. Which is why he lets his husband take them up to bed and does his best impression of fish flopping around on the bed. Derek sighs and pulls a fur over Stiles.  
  
“Sleep it off.” His husband commands, and then leaves out the window/door thing.  
  
Stiles thinks it sounds like an excellent command. He will follow it to the letter.  
  
It’s dark when he wakes up. He is in a wonderful cocoon of fuzzy things and they all smell like pine and Derek. And there is a noise that makes him want to hurt someone coming from the room on the lower level. Stiles mumbles angrily at the noise and searches for clothes. The first chest near the bed holds loose fitting cloth pants so Stiles drags those on and goes exploring.  
  
It’s a slow shuffle down the stairs and then he has to be sure not to mess too much with the shiny rock collection on the steps. They are a fire and health hazard if Stiles has ever seen one. Somehow Stiles makes it down to where the noise is coming from and finds not his husband but instead the other wolf.  
  
“Um, Scott?” Stiles is pretty sure the guy is called Scott. How awful would it be if he got that wrong? How completely awful? Like the worst insult ever or the worst insult ever to a wolf, kind of bad.  
  
“Hi!” Scott looks like a happy puppy. It’s adorable. Stiles is so glad he picked this one. Not that Scott is actually a puppy, but he is half wolf, so....  
  
“What’s the noise?” Stiles motions vaguely at all the heavy metal things Scott has been messing with.  
  
“Dinner!” Scott bounced on the balls of his feet and went back to banging around.  
  
“You are really cool with this?” Stiles asks suddenly because he has to know, needs to know.  
  
“I am more than cool with this. This is the best thing to happen since they took me off mining duty.” Scott nods.  
  
“What did you do before this?” Stiles asks, now that he notices some of the grass stains are gone.  
  
“I worked at the farms.” Scott beams and looks back at Stiles. A pot slips in his hands and falls to the floor, creating more of the racket. “I am good with animals and plants. More so animals. But you don’t have any animals here. So farming it is.”  
  
“Wait you have to farm?” Stiles was confused, and hungry. Scott needed to turn that noise into food soon.  
  
“I have to do something.” Scott laughed a little. “Everyone does.” There was a pause. “I mean I am sure they will find something for you too.”  
  
“Will they now?” Stiles was confused.  
  
“Of course. Everyone works, because we need every wolf to make a strong pack. Otherwise how do we make sure that no one goes hungry or sick?” Scott says this like it makes perfect sense. “The alphas give us the care we need because we do the work. If we can’t then other’s pick up the slack.” Scott turns to look at him and Stiles face must be doing something strange because the boy looks confused. “What?”  
  
“Nothing.” Stiles shakes his head. “It’s just not the way humans do things.”  
  
“Oh yeah, I know that.” Scott smiles and goes back to stiring something. “Things are different in the human compound.”  
  
“The what?” Stiles did not just hear that. He did not.  
  
“The human compound. It’s where the humans of the pack that aren’t mated live.” Scott throws something green into one of the pots. “They don’t take care of everyone there. And they get weird when you leave.” Scott pulls a chunk of meat out of a chest near his feet and throws the thing in a different pot. “Mom and I had to live there after dad died in the war until I agreed to join a pack.”  
  
“I’m lost.” Stiles admitted. “I thought you said the humans were in the pack.”  
  
“They are in Laura’s pack. But she is the alpha of the other packs.” Scott tilts his head and thinks. “Packs are like families, or a guild. There are lots of little ones that make up the whole.”  
  
“So you are my pack?” Stiles asks.  
  
“Yes. But you are in Derek’s pack.” Scott pours one pot into the other. “Does that make sense?”  
  
“No, but I will figure it out.” Stiles shrugs. “The one thing I don’t get is the thing with Peter.” Scott frowns and rubs at his neck.  
  
“It was a test.”  
  
“What kind of test?” Stiles really needed better reading before coming here. He should have spent more time talking to Morrell or something. He is walking into this forest without any kind of map.  
  
“To see,” Scott used a different voice that sounded a lot like Peter for the second part, “if the human can sense the other prey.” Scott growled.  
  
“What?” Stiles didn’t get that.  
  
“Isaac is only one fourth human.” Scott says like the words offend him.  
  
“So it was a trick?” Stiles gets it now. He knew of course about Peter. Well rather about Peter’s son. A death in the first pack was always noted by those in Beacon. He had expected the wolf to be angry, or irrational. But now he saw this would not be a little game of anger with Peter. He had rigged Stiles’ first choice as a part of the wolf pack. He had picked the more human one of the two, which to some wolves would confirm an assumption that he was weak.  
  
“Peter plays tricks a lot.” Scott sounds like he speaks from experience. Stiles hates that. He likes Scott and his easy smile. He likes the bounce in that boy’s step and how amused he seems with everything. So no, Stiles is not okay with someone being cruel to his new friend.  
  
“Well from now on I will deal with his tricks.” Stiles says firmly. Scott beamed. “So about this mating ritual?” Scott’s eyes got wide and his face went pale.  
  
So that was good...

* * *

  
Derek had been dreading this part. It was not going to be easy.  
  
They had let Stiles rest for a day. One day after nearly a week of travel to rest and prepare for perhaps the hardest thing he will ever have to do. At least they will do it here, in his home and not at the great hall. There had been talk of making it public, but Derek had fought that. He did not want his mating a topic for the entire pack.  
  
So it would be just them. Derek, Boyd, Stiles and his new pack mate Scott. And the doctor. Derek had only met the man once before, when his cousin had his mating. It had been a long day. But he would never forget the man who had hammered away despite the screams and shouts of the wolf in front of him.  
  
The sun was just cresting over the trees when he arrived. He was a dark man. That was the thing of course, that he was a man and not a wolf. The one human allowed to walk freely without a mate through all pack lands. A special honor for the man who is allowed to scar them.  
  
“I will set up under the trees.” Deaton takes the trunk off his back and walks to where he has indicated. Derek takes a deep breath and goes to wake up his mate. Stiles is in a nest of the furs on the bed. It’s... nice.  
  
Derek had spent years thinking about having a mate. Even before the whole mess in the sky. He had always known that he would be good at it. He wanted to have someone to care for, someone to fill up the gaps in the days. And now that the moment was here, he was glad really. True, this was a marriage to save lives, for politics. But that didn’t make it less of a mating, less of a bond. So Derek would do it the right way, the proper way.  
  
“Stiles.” Derek crept up silently on the floor. His mate snuffled into the fur and did not wake. “Stiles, it’s time.”  
  
That did something. His eyes opened and Derek was pinned with his peculiar shade of gold. It was a molten color in the morning, warm and melting. Derek thoughts turned to dark warm places when those eyes looked at him. But they had something to do now, later when the fever was gone he could think of those things.  
  
“You are going to be there?” Stiles shakes as he grabs for his pants, or rather Derek’s pants that Stiles has taken to wearing.  
  
“I will hold you through it.” Derek confirms. This is the part of mating that had always worried and excited him. The marking and the pain involved. But most mates bonded in these moments when they sweat and cried in agony as one.  
  
“Well then, lets get mated.” Stiles smiled and followed Derek out to the clearing. Deaton had set the planks of wood down with the needles saluting the sky. Wells of ink stood atop the trunk and Deaton sat at the other end of his case.  
  
“So....” Stiles says not sure what to do now. Derek sits down on the ground in front of Deaton, feeling the other man’s gaze.  
  
“You sit on my lap.” Derek patted the area. Stiles attempted to climb onto him but his limbs got tangled the wrong way. “Wrap your legs around me.” That fixed. Now Stiles sat wrapped around Derek, with Derek’s arms holding him in place.  
  
“I am going to start with your neck and back.” Deaton explained as he spread a poultice on Stiles’s back to keep the fever away. “It will numb the feeling for lower on your arm later.” Stiles just nodded into Derek’s neck. He could feel his mate’s heart rate and the fear leaking out his pours. This was not going to be a pleasant day.  
  
Stiles tenses when he hears Deaton reaching for his tools, so Derek slaps him on the ass. The amused and startled look on his mate’s face is worth it. Also it means that first stroke of the hammer falls on loose muscles. The pain is no less, but it will make it easier for Deaton. Stiles on the other hand looks close to tears.  
  
Derek tries to sooth him, to take the pain away in anyway he can. He strokes Stiles’ head and his lower back. He hums low in his belly so that the vibrations will rub at Stiles’ core. Deaton moves like an expert. His hammer comes down in fast groupings of hits, pounding the needle laden with pigment into Stiles’ neck and back.  
  
The pattern is the same most mates receive. The difference being that Stiles will bare his marks in shades of blue, to match Derek’s wolf eyes. [The dancing wolves, deer and elk will slop from Stiles’ neck down his right shoulder and circle his arm below the joint](http://siberiantimes.com/upload/information_system_39/4/1/1/item_411/information_items_411.jpg). It will take most of the day to complete. And then Stiles will have to fight a fever and sickness for days as his body fights the process. Even for wolves this is a hard task.  
  
But it is supposed to be a hard task. It would mean nothing if becoming mated were a simple process. When the learned to walk like men they learned the importance of pain and the value of commitment. Humans could leave their matings and choose again, wolves did not.  
  
The first hours go slow, the sun is climbing it’s way across the sky. The shade keeps them protected but slowly Derek notices a flush to Stiles’ cheeks. He had forgotten how pale his mate’s skin is, and now the translucent flesh turns pink and angry in the sun. Derek thinks that when this is over he will make sure to ask for an assignment inside for Stiles, he would prefer his skin undamaged.  
  
The sun has reached it’s peak when Stiles breaks. Tears roll down his face and Derek tries to kiss them away but they come in a steady stream. Stiles bites savagely into Derek’s chest trying to hold in the screams. Boyd and Scott have brought them water throughout most of the morning but no food, because as Stiles cries he heaves. There is nothing in his stomach for him to expel so Derek is saved that the indignity of being covered in vomit.  
  
Deaton relents. He turns to look at Derek and shakes his head. The mark isn’t close to finished. They have Stiles’ arm to go. Derek calls Scott over, the young puppy looking near tears himself.  
  
“I need you to take his pain.” Derek explains to the cub.  
  
“I c-can do that.” He mutters weakly.  
  
“Stiles?” Derek ask quietly.  
  
“Hmm?” His mate can barely vocalize.  
  
“We are going to lay you on the grass, with your arm over your head. You need to face me, don’t look at the mark. Do you understand?” Derek can feel, more than hear, his voice crack in the low tones.  
  
“Yes.” Stiles’ response is thin and reedy. Derek motions to Boyd to bring more water, and Stiles gulps happily.  
  
They move him as a group. Boyd heft’s Stiles up by his armpits so that Derek and get out from under him. When Derek stands he pulls the group father into the shade, in hopes of sparing his mate the heat of the sun. Stiles sighs when the cool grass touches his chest. Scott is there, holding his legs with black tendrils snaking up his arms and tears in his eyes. The pain must be immense.  
  
This is the first time Derek sees the mark. It’s breathtaking. Deaton knows his craft well, and the lines and colors fit Stiles so perfectly that Derek can’t imagine his skin without it now. But it’s not just the elegant lines, and details on each animal. This is his mate, bearing his mark. There are little changes in the mark of course, each must be different. And those little changes make Derek’s heart stutter in his chest.  
  
Despite the tears, and the pain, Stiles has never asked for it to stop. Has never complained or said anything against the mark. It’s a gift really. Derek wonders if his mate knows what it means, knows that Deaton will stop after the tenth protest and that the mating will be dissolved. He wonders if Stiles knows that a mate that makes it without asking for a pause is considered an honour. At the next full moon feast Stiles will be the talk of the pack. Derek’s heart swells.  
  
“Talk to me Stiles.” Derek tells him brushing sweat drenched hair off his forehead.  
  
“I have decided that I like human mating rituals a lot more. I just realized they are so much better in so many ways. Mainly the lack of blood, and pain. That seem to be the part I like the most.” Stiles mutters barely audible. It catches a laugh out of Derek.  
  
“My cousin said the same thing during his mating.” Derek scoffs a little at the memory. “His mate told him to shut and take it like a wolf.”  
  
“That sounds like a good mating.” Stiles laughs a little, then grimaces with a pounding of the hammer.  
  
“It was.” Derek thinks it might be a mistake to talk about this. Luckily Stiles seems to catch on to his reluctance and changes the topic to something else.  
  
“When is it your turn?” Stiles coughs. **  
**  
“After one full moon cycle, or the first cub.” Derek wipes a cold cloth across Stiles’ head as she speaks.

“So moon cycle.” Stiles jokes.  
  
“Perhaps.” Derek thinks that maybe that might not be the case. His pack has always been inventive. The ones to first learn of the hidden secrets they had brought with them out of the depths. But those were thoughts for another time.  
  
And then it’s over. Deaton looks up and nods. Stiles cries again, this time in relief. The sun hangs low in the sky. They take his mate inside and lay him to rest on the bed. Scott makes a broth and Stiles sips when he wakes. But mostly there is the fever. Derek doesn’t enjoy the fever. He is mostly helpless in these days. Left with nothing but cold cloths and ground herbs to help. Boyd goes to the Hall to tell Laura that the mating is complete and that Stiles proved a valiant mate, one worthy of honour and envy. Laura sends no regards in return. Derek doesn’t care that his sister fails to be proud. He is concerned with the flush of Stiles’ face, the way his skin peels along his back.  
  
Days pass with little to mark them other than the pale pallor of Stiles’ skin and the torment in Derek’s heart. The wolves have no gods, for they know there are none, only the wilderness. But in those dark moments when Stiles can’t eat or sleeps endlessly Derek wishes that there were Gods because then at least there would be someone to share his heart with. Scott is too young to understand the pain of mating and Boyd is his responsibility not the other way around.  
  
So Derek take the pain and holds it close to his heart, and waits out the fever. A week from the day Stiles receives his mark the fever breaks. It is not an easy break done in sleep, rather Stiles screams as the fever crests and then finally falls. But in the morning he eats a full meal that is brought to him.  
  
Laura comes that morning. In her war leathers still, eyes blazing. She stands by his forge and waits for him to come to her. Derek submits to her unspoken request without much hassle. He would rather stay with his mate but his alpha demands an audience.  
  
“How does it feel?” She asks staring out at the tree lines.  
  
“Better than anticipated.” Derek would say more, but she doesn’t want that.  
  
“We are going to have more funerals this month. For those not recovered.” Laura picks up a dagger that is not yet finished and twirls it in her fingers. “You are not invited.”  
  
“Understood.” It’s wrong. Those were his brothers on that field. But Derek knows the reasons why he will not be permitted. No one wants a human from the other side at the event, and Derek will not leave Stiles at home. So he shall miss the passing of great wolves, he will be denied the right to bid them goodbye.  
  
“Is it worth it?” Laura asks looking Derek in the eye for the first time. Her eyes are not her own. Laura always had father’s eyes. They are ringed with dark circles of kohl and nights without sleep. Her features are so like his own and yet so different.  
  
She bares pain differently. Laura holds her pain like a fire to her chest, burning her skin with each pass. She cries with a fury at her loss and takes the fire out on those who are weak. She pushes Peter away and holds Derek too close alternately. She resents nothing, and is accepting of the fates they have been dealt. But she remembers better the things before, before the war, before the sky rained fire. Laura remembers the stories of when Beacon was their alley by choice. She holds the grudges and hates with her whole body.  
  
Yet she loves each of her wolves with just as much passion. She is ever pulled by herself and by the person she believes she needs to be. In the beginning she was the strong one, the one who took charge when there was no one else. The one who would not be bullied by Peter and defended Derek at every turn.  
  
But as the fires in Derek’s chest turn to pools of water, hers burn brighter with rage. It is not that he does not feel the pain. It stings like an empty hollow in his chest. Some days he can feel the wind and the sun blow through the holes that make him up. There are days where Derek is endlessly tired and wishes that there was someone to comfort him.  
  
He realizes now that she might be jealous, in her way. That he has someone while she stands at the peaks alone. It is another hurt, that carves out a corner in his chest. His beautiful, stunning sister may never find the one to fill the void or put out her fires.  
  
“I will not abandon you.” He speaks rather than answer, because it is the real question.  
  
“I am glad he is worthy of you in some way.” She nods and then vanishes into the trees. From her, it is a ringing endorsement for all time.  
  
Derek goes back to bed and clings to his mate. He watches the sun kiss the mark that makes Stiles his for all time, and he cries for his sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tattoo is from a mummy found in the Tundra in Siberia. It is some of the most advanced tattooing seen for that time period ever. I figured that it made the most sense for the world.  
> Also huge tattoo kink. So there.
> 
>  
> 
> [Follow me down the rabbit hole for more. ](http://alyseofwonderland.tumblr.com)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles would very much like a bath, some food and for Laura not to eat him.

Chapter 7

****

Stiles wakes feeling like death warmed over. He smells awful and every part of him hurts. But he is alive, and being aggressively cuddled. Derek has tucked Stiles under him, almost completely. It’s nice, but right now Stiles wants food and a bath and maybe to never smell this smell again.

****

“Argh!” Stiles groans.

****

“Shhh.” Derek’s lips brush his neck as he tries to keep Stiles close.

****

“No. Food.” Stiles insisted with a push. Derek released his hold and Stiles tumbled out of bed. He didn’t walk so much as slide down the stairs to find Scott mumbling over a bowl full of leaves. “Please let that be food.”

****

“No,” Scott shook his head but turned around and pulled out a bowl of something that looked like stew. Stiles didn’t really care. It tasted like food and that was all that mattered. He knew there were remains on his face but he didn’t care.  Stiles feels a million times better, which is probably why he promptly falls asleep where he is.

****

“Ugh!” Stiles would like the noise and the bright to go away.

****

“Well that works.” Scott sounds surprised. Stiles opens his eyes to find that Scott has made some kind of light reflection trap using the stones to shine the sun right in Stiles eyes.

****

“He doesn’t like it when people touch those.” Stiles points out because he is still a bit scared by the fact that Derek ran upstairs to put a rock away before having sex one time. Who does that. Derek is weird. Weird and his mate.

****

THE TATTOO!

****

Stiles falls off the chair trying to get a good look at the thing. He stays on the floor for a minute because it hurts to move and his body refuses to do anything else really. Scott peers down at him with mild interest.

****

“You want a bath?” Scott looks like he might laugh, traitor. Stiles nods, and then is quickly picked up and thrown over Scott’s shoulder.

****

“I hate you.” Stiles points out, hanging like a limp noodle.

****

“You are about to love me.” Scott sounds like he is smiling, Stiles disapproves.

****

“Doubtful.” It really is. But then he is dumped in a steaming tub and “Oh I love you!” comes bursting out of him without consent.

****

“Told you.” Scott preens a little. Stupid wolf.

****

“You might need to burn the tub when I get out.” Stiles offers looking at the murky tone it has already taken on.

****

“I really hope not. Derek already made me burn the sheets.” Scott huffs in a very wolf way.

****

“That seems extreme.” Stiles did not think they would actually burn the sheets.

****

“The stench of pain would have never come out. We are just really lucky he didn’t make me burn the mattress as well.”

****

“Small miracles.” Stiles falls asleep again, this time in the tub. He really needs to stop doing that.

****

“Why am I wet?” Stiles asks waking up in the main room of the house. “Also what is that noise?”

****

“Derek’s putting in steps.” Scott says from the kitchen. Scott cooks a lot. It’s not really great cooking but food needs to get into his belly this instant.

****

It’s the next morning before Stiles gets around to finding out what Scott had meant about steps. The rope is gone and now a rather haphazard grouping of metal rings and lips are nailed into the side of the tree by the window. It looks much more like a collage then it does like a set of steps but its clear that there are good hand hold in the mix. It’s a rather stunning arrangement when the sun hits it and the light bounces of the shiny pieces and dulls along the oxidized pieces.

****

The other plus is now Stiles can get down without using the rope, something he isn’t strong enough for right now. Scott helps him down so that Stiles can get out into the clearing and move around to get his strength back. Derek works in the forge most of the day.

****

Days go like that for a while. Stiles naps and eats with mild exercise in between. Derek works with Boyd and at night he pulls Stiles close to snuggle. The sex has been lacking but Stiles isn’t sure he would be up for the kind of things they have done in the past so he deals.

****

So it’s a surprise when Derek shakes him awake one morning.

****

“Stop!” Stiles groans and tries to hide in the sheets.

****

“Stiles get up. You have to go to the hall today.” Derek growls and then starts dragging him out of the bed.

****

“What?” Stiles clings to the sheets and tries to stay into the bed. “Why?”

****

“You need to get a job.” Derek smacks him on the ass and the bodily puts Stiles in clothes.

 

* * *

 

So Stiles knew that the wolves took work seriously. No one keeps to be a lay about, not even the first pack. Derek works in the forge making odds and ends that are not needed but wanted. Apparently Peter works in the mines, which sounds awful and creepy. Laura when not running the entire settlement does artistic carving.

****

Today is the end of his reprieve according to wolf law. He has healed the fever and can eat three solid meals so its time to get back to work, or to work in general. Derek tries to explain that Stiles won’t be forced into doing anything he hates, but he has to pick something.

****

The thing is that Stiles has no experience. His whole life had been built around the fact that he would one day be king. All his lessons were about the politics and laws of Beacon. He had learned the art of war and how to negotiate treaties with every country within four thousand miles of Beacon. He knew their customs to a point and when to sit and when to stand. He knew how play all the national sports of the surrounding nations. He could mediate a claim from his people.

****

Stiles was a polished perfect head of state. There was nothing else he could do. But he kept silent during the journey to the great hall.

 

* * *

 

“You were absent at the mating.” Deaton chastises from his position on the stairs. Laura looks down at him from her perch. His face does not convey the scolding but she knows it is there.

****

“I was at a funeral pyre construction.” Laura reminds him as he climbs the last steps to join her at the tip of the great hall. He ignores her of course, because Deaton has never done anything on anyone’s time but his own.

****

“Staying in the sky will not bring you closer to them.” He harkens back to an old argument.

****

Perhaps argument is too strong a word. A discussion. A conversation that has been between them since the day Laura was too afraid to take flight. Most wolves were comfortable with heights. It was little known fact that their origins were connected to the tips of the trees. But Laura had always loved the sky more than others.

****

Her first memory is the sight of the thunderstorms coming across the mountains of the south to darken the sky. She had held onto her father but they had stayed out in the clearing, watching the storm approach. Laura had never feared coming storms. She had known that there was nothing to fear, not while her father was there.

****

It had been a shock when Derek had loved the earth. He was an odd ball amongst their people. He would not climb with the others to the peaks of the trees but would dig and burrow into caves. But Laura had loved to drag him up high, to show him the sky and all it’s wonders. He would cling to her and growl the whole time but when they got back to the ground Derek would go hunting for stones the color of the sky. He took the rocks and placed them before windows to create the pattern of the sky on the ceiling of the great hall.

****

Their parents had loved the rock display. They had called him clever and sent for a jeweler to teach Derek all the names of the stones. Laura should have been jealous perhaps, but she had other pursuits and it was not something to worry about if her parents asked for more teachers for Derek.

****

Laura was the one who had mentioned flying to them. The visiting family from a country below the great range. She had told the brother who was so much older than her that she thought it could be done, not like a bird but like a balloon or a bubble. When the family had returned years later to continue talks of a betrothal for Derek the Prince had brought Laura a small balloon and explained that his family was building them.

****

The things wasn’t that Laura hated all humans. She had liked that Prince well enough. She was found of Melissa the midwife for the humans. Laura considered Deaton to be her friend. But she couldn’t forgive. There were some things in life that one could forget but not forgive and the fire in the sky was one of those things.

****

“I am allowed to like the sky and not have other motives.” Laura sighed wiggling her toes on the warm wood beneath her feet. She tended to go barefoot when she could, boots were an invention for men and not for wolves.

****

“You are allowed, but I doubt that is the case.” Deaton shoved his booted foot at her. “Your brother’s mate comes for placement in an hour or so.”

****

“Does he?” Laura played coy. She knew the time of arrival, but this was her time and it was not to be muddied with agendas and appointments.

****

“You are going to speak to him.” Deaton told her with a stern look. For her best friend Deaton did give an awful lot of orders.

****

“To what end?”

****

“To share your little secret.” He turned then and moved down the stairwell to the floors below.

****

“He doesn’t love him.” She shouted after Deaton.

****

“Wolves don’t have to love. They just mate.” He called back. “You taught me that.” He winked and then disappeared into the shadows. Laura hated him sometimes.

 

* * *

 

Stiles was bored. He was very close to resorting to chewing on his own arms to find something to do.

****

Turns out the wolves have a weird idea of how one picks a job. They apparently let your husband push you into a room and leave you there, for hours on end. Sure the room is filled with stuff; but what Stiles is supposed to do with it he has no idea. None. It’s been hours since he was locked in here and he is done tinkering around.

****

Sure the first hour had been amusing. He had messed with all the different tools and smelled some of the plants near the window. Stiles had tried just about everything in the room. The problem was that most of the stuff was tossed around and in no particular order. Which bothered him.

****

Stiles was not a particularly neat person but he was pretty sure there were some books hidden under a pile of what must be black smith tools. That was an offense to books.

****

And that kids, is how three hours after that Laura Hale and Alpha to the whole pack found Stiles on the floor surrounded by varying stacks of books muttering to himself and petting a few of the thicker ones like pets.

****

They stare at each other in silence for several moments. This is the longest Stiles has been around Laura to date and he is starting to freak out just a little bit because she looks two parts shocked, one part amused and three parts still really pissed. If Stiles weren’t married, Laura would put him off women forever.

****

“Huh,” She says after the longest staring contest ever. “Well the old scribe is starting to look like he might already be dead in the library.”

****

“Is that a threat?” Stiles squeaks out. He has been sick, he gets to be confused by strange powerful women who look like eating him, and not in the fun way, is part of their day.

****

“No. It’s your job.” She motioned to the books. “You ended up amusing yourself with books. So you get books as your job.”

****

Stiles is now completely speechless. Thats, thats, kind of....brilliant really. Leave the younger members of the pack in a room with a shit ton of different things. Wait until they are confirmed to be bored out of their minds and then come see what they are messing with.

****

“What happens if I was playing with a few items?” Stiles feels the question slip out.

****

“We leave them for the rest of the night.” Laura smirked. Stiles is so not okay with this woman. “Come, I have something to show you.”

****

Stiles put the books down, well he put most of the books down, he kept the small leather one in his hands because no one was ever going to hurt it again. Laura stalked in front of him through several rooms and then to a ladder along the side of the wall. She paused and turned to look at him, her kohl rimmed eyes night glow bright in the relative darkness of the corridor. “I hope you are not afraid of heights.” She smirked and then climbed up the ladder.

****

Until this exact moment Stiles had not been aware just how tall the great hall was. Sure the thing was massive and took up a majority of the settlement, but it did not appear tall from the outside. But the climb was steep and just kept going and going. Finally sunlight poured in through a latch in the ceiling.

****

When Stiles reached the opening Laura stood on a small unguarded flat surface. Stiles was not afraid of heights, having lived in towers most of his life. He was afraid of falling. That was a legitimate fear. So he stood there next to her, trying really hard not to move.

****

The view was spectacular. Tree tops looked like overgrown bushes at this height and the great pass and range spread out on the horizon. This was the first time Stiles had seen the mountain range from the otherside. They had a different hue and shape on their north sides. Pink and red shades of stone stood out amongst the white and black of the stone he knew.

****

“You can’t see them well any more but there used to be Beacons on this side of the mountain as well.” Laura began after a long stretch of silence. “The men of your land took shifts of several months staying at the many beacons in case an army of humans moved to attack the wolves. It was how the small collection of villages became known as Beacon. It was the reason the humans asked for an alliance as well. Beacon was to warn either side and never participate. Simply let whatever army move through without resistance.”

****

“I had heard a few stories.” Stiles remembers his grandmother talking of the great fires on the hill to save the beasts above.

****

“Do you want to know what changed?” Laura asked. But Stiles knew it wasn’t really a question, so he nodded no matter what he cared.

****

“Humans learned to fear us and we learned to hate you.” Laura looked off into the distance watching the mountain range. Stiles turned to look at her, to really look at Laura. Before he had just seen the piercing eyes and wild tangle of hair. But now he could see that her face looked wind rough at her cheekbones and that her eyes appeared sunken in. The kohl was hiding the bags under her eyes as well. Her braids were severe and messy but Stiles could see that her hair hadn’t been washed in several days. He wondered if he had misjudged Laura.

****

Laura turned to look at him and in the movement Stiles caught a flash of color along the back of her neck. It was a small thing, a sliver of red hidden in a mass of brown and pale flesh. His face must have betrayed the discovery because her face changed shape. It was not a smile, or a frown, or a smirk. It was a shift of the muscles until she resembled the creatures of her ancestry more than a woman. It was rather terrifying to behold the small changes. Stiles had seen a full shift, but this was something far more subtle and unnerving.

****

“Did you know that we use our markings for more than just mating?” Her voice cold. “We also have marks of fealty.”

****

“But you are alpha.” Stiles heard the words spill out of his mouth.

****

“Here,” Her arms sweeping out to indicate the settlement and mountain range in the distance, “I am alpha.” Laura now turned her head to the expanse of forest behind them. “But in the depths I am just another wolf who must bend their will.”

****

Stiles turned to look at the trees behind them. With each mile the tips grew higher and the shade deeper. A chill came off the air from the north and swept down around them, a warning of a coming storm. For the first time ever perhaps, Stiles understood why it was called the depths. The heart of the forest was not a kind heart, it appeared dark and threatening. He turned back to find Laura examining him.

****

She looked at him with intensity and Stiles felt soldered to the spot. “Not all wolves thought we should take you and end the fight. The choice was mine to make, but there are those who will oppose it. And they are not known for their kindness.”

****

“What do you suggest I do?” Stiles wanted to know. If there were others, wolves, coming for him then he needed to do something.

****

“Be clever.” Laura shrugged. “They tend to not kill the clever ones.”

****

Stiles did not like the sound of that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was like weird to write. Mostly because Laura really wanted to say a few things. She basically kidnapped me until I wrote her into this chapter. That was not what this chapter was supposed to be. So many things were cut to make room for her. Which means they are gonna end up in the next chapter.
> 
> Also if anyone cares i really see Laura as looking a bit like Lagertha from Vikings. Only in like an old timey leather get up. The hair is pretty much spot on, only brown. And the eye make-up is perfect. 
> 
> If you all play nice I might tell you what Laura's tattoo looks like.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King Alaric learns of a threat on the horizon and the mated pair are both faced with harsh truths.

Chapter 8

****

King Alaric was in his study when the knock came. He had already eaten his evening meal so he was not expecting to be disturbed. The sun was creeping below the horizon and soon his work would have to end, there was only so much he could accomplish by candlelight. The porter opened the door looking nervous and debating abandoning his post. The boy had only been at his post for a month, having replaced the previous porter who had retired to the countryside.

****

“You have a visitor sir.” The thin boy said, his regalia a little askew,  before another man pushed into the room. This man Alaric had been expecting but not anytime soon.

****

“Prince Christopher, I thought you were to arrive in a weeks time?” Alaric stood to greet the royal. It was strange how royal blood in this region was so closely knit, Christopher and Alaric shared many features. Both men stand at similar heights with pale hair and thin faces. But where Alaric’s build is stockier from years of mountain living Christopher is the slim build of the fields.

****

Christopher Argent had been Alaric’s friend for years. But some times it was difficult to be friends with another member of royalty. Where Beacon had a parliament and political parties that could overturn rulings that Alaric passed. Argent was a full monarchy, with Christopher's father reigning supreme. It showed in the way they dressed. Alaric only ever brought out the full regalia for official national events. But Christopher rode across the country with banner men and several suits of colors at all times.

****

It was this fundamental difference that had lead to the most recent hostilities. King Argent had created weaponry that had no purpose in a peacetime. The wolves had not been pleased. Alaric didn’t blame Christopher for his father’s choices but the Argents in general tended to be militant. Their country’s growing infrastructure was based almost solely on tools of war for the many wars around the world. The boys of Argent dreaming of going to elite schools of archery in order to travel across the world as sell swords.

****

“I had hoped to arrive earlier.”Christopher smiled. “We were hoping that perhaps the treaty hadn’t passed.” So this was about Stiles. Alaric wanted to cringe but he didn’t. It had been a rock and a hard place for him, to sell his son to the wolves or the archers. Each nation would have killed the majority of the population of Beacon if Alaric hadn’t made a choice.

****

“It passed. And was acted on.” Alaric shook his head. In the end the choice had made more sense, Laura was a kinder alpha than Gerard of Christopher could ever be. His son went to the better choice.  “Didn’t your father receive the caller?”

****

“I have no knowledge of that, not since my sister has gone missing.” Christopher’s face looks pinched. Princess Kate was a source of constant pain for Christopher. Years ago she had started something that no one could have stopped and the consequence were still being dealt with.

****

“Still no word?” Alaric asked. They had received word from Argent the day of the wedding that the princess had disappeared from her royal chambers, no word or note.

****

“We have been waiting for a ransom of some kind but still nothing.” Christopher slumped into a chair. He looked weathered. “So I am guessing my betrothal request is no longer valid?”

****

“Unless you have a son I was unaware of, because my niece is now the only one that is available.” Alaric continued to sign some of the ordinances on his desk. His signature was mostly ceremonial, but it was important to keep doing the work his people expected of him.

****

“Sadly I do not.” Christopher shook his head. “It is the curse of my family to have more girls than boys in every generation.”

****

“Sounds like a blessing to me.” Alaric shrugged. Stiles has been a handful of a prince. Noisey and never very good with his tutors. Stiles also tended to escape the castle as a child and end up covered in dirty half way down the city in some back alley before the guards found him.  But the fact was that Alaric missed his son. He missed the noise and the laughter. He even had grown the miss the late night screams that had followed his son back from the battlefield.

****

The worry as a living thing that sat in his chest, eating at his heart. Alaric had effectively sold his only child to buy peace. Laura had insisted that Derek would make a better mate, that her brother had a kind soul under all his scowls. But there were lingering doubt. Alaric would know nothing until next year when Stiles would be allowed to visit for a month with his mate, husband, with Derek.

****

“Was the marriage your main reason for coming?” Alaric asked after Christopher had been quiet for too long.

****

“No.” A scrape of metal rang out. Christopher pulled something out of his hip bag. “I wanted to warn you.” Alaric looked up from his papers to see that Christopher was holding a strange arrow in his hands. “My father will not keep the peace. He believes the wolfs have my sister. He is certain this is retribution for the accident with the airship.”

****

“But...” Alaric had a thousand reasons why that made no sense.

****

“Get your son out of Wolf Nation Alaric. I don’t know if I can stop my father.” And with that Christopher left. But in his seat was the arrow. A strange arrow with a purple tip and metal feathers and barbs along the shaft.

****

Alaric brought the arrow to his nose and scent of flowers swarmed his sense.

****

This arrow alone was a declaration of war. A war between the countries on either side of Beacon. A war they could not afford, for the sake of Stiles’ life.

****

 

* * *

 

****

Jackson is leaning against the great hall with a smirk when Derek exits. He has positioned himself in a way that the sunlight catches the curves of his cheeks on his face. Jackson is one of those wolves that knows his own beauty too well. The boy is rather insufferable and yet they have to keep him around. As the son of the builder pack he is more important than half the wolves in the settlement.

****

“I hear your mate is gonna be the new scribe.” Jackson taunted. “That must burn at your pack’s heart. Knowing you didn’t marry a warrior.” Historically wolves in the first pack are either warriors or hunters. Derek had been a warrior as well, until they ran low on metal to fight the humans, until he found that song of steel called him greater than the ballad of blood. Peter was a warrior as well. Laura was the hunter, the best to be alpha. She had earned her rank after a month in the wilds by herself. Laura still wore bits of the bones of the animals she had taken down in the braids in her hair.

****

“Not all of us are required to perform the mate trial.” Derek corrects him. The mate trial is an awful business that those who live in the depths require of certain mates. He understands why the boy is difficult, but it doesn’t mean that Derek will tolerate him. The fact that another pack choose to abandon the infant Jackson for his latency is a burden he carries. Unable to shift into the form of any range of wolf. The thing about it is, they have never had any builder as talented as Jackson. The boy has a way with wood and can bend it to any shape. It is because of Jackson’s skill that the settlement withstood the war with so little damage.

****

“Funny, that the human mated into the first pack isn’t require to run the gauntlet. How nice it must be to have the privileges of Beta.” Jackson sneers. It had been in the treaty, Laura had put it in and made sure the King understood. They would not make his son run through the wild with their people on his heals. There would be no bruises for Stiles to bear in order to earn his place in the pack.

****

“If you want a mate so badly go on a hunt for one.” Derek offers. Not that Jackson will take it. Jackson refuses to leave the safety of the pack even to seek a suitable mate. His fear of exposing his lack of wolf to others keeps him hidden.

****

They stare at eachother for a while. Neither backing down or saying anything. The wind brings scents of the livestock and the fields. Derek is willing to wait until Jackson caves, his dominance is not to be questioned in this matter.

****

“The midwife wishes to see you.” Jackson says after a long while. He turns and walks away.

****

Derek takes his time going to see her. He stops by the market and looks at the new metal that has come in from the other nations. He speaks with the alpha of the farming pack and inquires about the wheat stores. Derek does everything a good member of the first pack should do. He does these things because they are expected of him, but he feels so little of the affection he should.

****

Derek does not feel the pack the way that Laura does, they are not a constant hum in his chest. Rather he sees them for their histories. When he looks in their eyes he sees the past. And some days he does not feel the urge to see the past in the eyes of others.

****

Which is why he does not go to the midwife quickly. She is hard to look at. Her life a strange one and her eyes hold the markers of such a life. But eventually he reaches her cabin and there is nothing more he can do than knock.

****

“Derek?” Melissa looks shocked. “I was not expecting you so soon.”

****

“I was at the great hall.” Normally this time of year Derek is engrossed in the metal work so Melissa had not expected him for days probably.

****

“Please come in.” Melissa motions to the ground level entry way. She is human and thus one of the few cabins in the main village with such an entrance. The cabin is actually larger than most in the village. It has several ground level doors to allow the wolves in varying stages of pregnancy to enter unencumbered. The main room is warm and welcoming without being cluttered. There are tables and chair that have odd dips to them so that birth can be given in any position.  Melissa motions to a sitting area off to the side and they both settle into the large leather arm chairs.

****

“I wanted to speak to you about my son.”

****

“Scott.” Derek had nearly forgotten that the boy was her son.

****

“Yes. I understand that your mate has taken him as pack. For which I am extremely grateful.” She look off to the side. “But without my son to provide the feats of strength and agility that are required around here....”

****

“You need assistance.”  Derek saw where this was going.

****

“Yes.” Melissa nodded. “Better yet I need permanent protection. With my husband dead and my son in a separate pack that does not live in the main settlement.”

****

Here lies a problem. This is a situation that has yet to occur in living memory. Most humans that live within the wolf nations are either a spouse or a labourer. Those who are mated to a wolf have the protection of their mate. When the mate passes before the human they are protected by their children. Those who are not married live in a part of the settlement designed to keep the humans safe and out of the way.

****

But Melissa cannot be moved. Her services are important to the pack and there have been no wolves willing or ready to train as her assistant. All of the normal solutions are too extreme for this situation.

****

“Do you have any suggestions?” Derek asks not because he thinks she does, but because he has none himself. They might be able to swear Melissa into the first pack, but only if she swore loyalty to Peter. It’s the closest wolves get to second marriages like some humans do. His sister can’t take Melissa because as the alpha she can only swear in the heads of the smaller packs or her family.

****

“Besides agreeing to give myself to your uncle?” Her smile is faint and sour. “Revoke the laws restricting my movements and authority. Give me the same status as a wolf.”

****

There is a silence as Derek really understands what she is asking.

****

“You know what that would mean, who we would have to get to agree.” Derek looks at the pettie woman with a stare he hopes is solemn.

****

“You have a human mate, Derek. Things have to change.” He knows she is right. But it doesn’t make the knowledge any easier.

 

* * *

 

“Quickly.” The elderly wolf says for the fifth time. Really Stiles is going to ask about this, because no person with that much beard and that many wrinkles should be able to out walk Stiles. When Laura had introduced him to the man as the pack scribe Stiles had been expecting him to be slow.

****

The scribe was a short man with a hunched back. He was one of the first wolves Stiles had met that wore loose clothing. He wore a grey robe that was only three shades darker than the hair on his head and beard. The scribe had sniffed at Stiles and lead him away after Laura had introduced them. Stiles had set off at a slow pace only to be overtaken by the old man who could apparently move at the speed of a horse.

  
  


The man had a cane for crying out loud, wolves didn’t need canes. That fact alone meant that he was ancient, older than any person Stiles had ever met. And he was so much faster.  Well that’s not fair. Stiles keeps getting distracted by all the lovely books.

****

BOOKS!

****

Okay, so maybe Stiles is a little bit entranced by the library. It’s in a similar building to the great hall. It is in fact the second largest structure in the village and is directly next to the great hall.  The doors are smaller and actually have steps, something about keeping the weather away from the library. There are carvings here as well, only all the carvings are on the bookshelves.

****

And the books. Where does he start? Wolves apparently have not come over the thinner paper used by humans. All their paper still looks like it might have come from parts of a tree. You can still smell the trees in their books. The thick edges stick out at the ends in uneven lines and Stiles wants to rub his face against them. The bindings all appear to be animal skins of some kind with the titles branded into the covers rather than written. Stiles is in ecstasy and no one is going to take this from him.

****

There are thousands of years of history in these walls and the damn scribe will not slow down and let Stiles touch every last piece. It’s going to be difficult not to stop. His hands keep coming up of his own according and brushing against the edges of books here and there. It really does just smell wonderful in here. Stiles is never leaving. Well maybe. But only if Derek promises sexy times. And only then!

****

“You will learn all the books and their names when we have gotten you recorded.” The scribe yells back at Stiles who has paused before one particularly ornate bookshelf. It’s strange because this bookshelf is made of some kind of red wood that has been stained a deep dark color reminding Stiles of blood. Every other bookshelf is made of the wood that most of the building is made out of.

****

“What about this one?” Stiles asks the man he is now referring to as OBS (old bearded scribe) turns around and frowns when he sees what Stiles is pointing at.

****

“That self is reserved for a very particular type of book.” OBS says with one of those looks that means he want’s Stiles to drop it. He isn’t going to drop it.

****

“What topic?”

****

They have a staring contest. There is no other way to explain what happens then. OBS squints at Stiles, and Stiles squints back. They can hear birds calling in the distance but the two of them remain locked in a battle of wills. Stiles tries focusing on the tiny grey hairs decorating OBS’s face and eyebrows. He pays attention the wrinkles, because Stiles is not giving up on this. Not when books and knowledge are on the line. Finally OBS smiles.

****

“Finally they send me someone worthwhile.” His grin widens. “These are the secrets of the wolves. Our histories that we do not tell the humans, our laws that are too savage and our government of which is completely hidden from view.” OBS pulls out a book from the top shelf and hands it to Stiles. “You shall start here.”

****

“What about getting me recorded?” Stiles yells as OBS scurries away. The old man turn about halfway down the hall and shakes his head.

****

“I can do that without you. Now read!” He shouts back. So Stiles reads. He reads about the location of The Depths. After that story he has to get off the floor and move to a nearby chair. He reads four different origin stories and the scholarly arguments for each.  It’s only as the light is fading that he finds the story of the fire in the sky.

****

_On the fifth day of the seventh moon in the twelfth year of Talia there was a great fire in the sky. On that day Prince Christopher and his sister and father visited the nation in order to bring a gift for his betrothal to Laura of the first pack. The gift was the first airship his nation had constructed in order to fulfil a dream of Laura’s to see the sky._

_**** _

_It was on that morning that Gerard Argent expressed a desire to change the betrothal from his son Christopher to his daughter Katherine. There had been an offer for a bride from a country across the sea for Christopher and the dowry was considerably larger than the one offered by wolf nation. (Footnote: It is a strange human custom that a bride should include a price. For isn’t a bride more valuable than a husband? See human appendix ten for further study.) Alpha Talia expressed that the change would be unfavorable as Derek was too young to uphold such a responsibility and his cousin Josh was already courting._

_**** _

_Negotiations ended favorably. The Argents would get their trade treaty with the nation despite the lack of bride or groom and the nation would keep the airship prototype. Talia before the pack offered to be the first to ride the airship to show her people that there was nothing to fear from the inventions of man. At her courage the majority of the first pack and alphas of the many smaller packs in the nation joined Talia for a ride into the sky._

_**** _

_The blaze that consumed the airship lit the sky and trees above the nation for hours. It was such a fire that the balloon portion did not catch fire until hours into the tragedy. Many of those caught in the flames attempted to leap from the craft to the trees and settlements below, but only Peter Hale of the first pack survived the fall from the sky. All others, including Talia and her mate, perished in the sky._

_**** _

_And so on that day Laura, daughter of Talia Hale became the alpha and the first of her name to rule the nation from the first pack. Her brother Derek was named beta with his cousin Josh as his second in command. While other members of the first pack remained only these and the injured Peter stayed with the nation. Those of the first pack who did not take the airship choose to return to the depths and the safety they hold._

_**** _

_The following moon Alpha Laura traveled to the depths to receive her mark and to speak her secrets to the trees._

_**** _

Stiles stared at the book. This, this was what had happened. Here in emotionless text stood the story of death at a level normally reserved for war. On the next page there was a list of the dead, it was seven columns. Each wolf listed along with those they left behind. The footnotes marked the mates that died in sorrow from the loss.

****

“And now you see little one, we did not make war lightly for the offense.” The scribe said from next to Stiles. He jumped in confusion not having heard the man approach.

****

“You wanted me to see this?” Stiles gasped. He wondered why this would be something he should see on his first day. Surely information of the gravity should have been learned later, in context. Not before he knew anything about how the nation worked. When he was still trapped by questions.

****

“Your’s is the second face of humanity most of the wolves have seen. The first was the screams of their loved ones and the scent of burning flesh.” The scribe took a seat in the wooden chair next to Stiles. “If you are to do your job as a scribe, and a mate, you must understand your place in the pack. And for many this is their image of you. The face of the race that slaughtered the leaders of the pack over a slight.”

****

“There is nothing in here about it being deliberate.” Stiles pulls at the pages. He can’t really feel the panic his hands are showing. He feels numb and lost. Shock his mind says. Shock at learning something awful. Shock at understanding.

****

“We do not keep records of such things. But an alpha knows and a scribe’s job is to see beyond the words.” The old man smiled. “You see little one, there is a good chance you will die in the place for wolves only see humanity and not nation.” Stiles looked up at the scribe hoping there was more.

****

“But the treaty...” He heard his voice say.

****

“I have decide you can’t die. You are the only one that cares for the books as I do. But inorder for that to happen things are going to have to change around here. And you are going to need weapons.” The scribe stood and motioned for Stiles to follow. They proceeded down the rows of shelves until they reached a wall. The scribe turned to Stiles and winked, then pulled a notch of wood out of the wall. A staircase appeared in the floor.

****

Stiles thought about asking something, anything. But he couldn’t put words to thoughts. There was so much unexplained. Why hadn’t Laura or Derek been in the airship? How did they know that the airship caught fire on purpose? But there were other humans in the settlement, why was he in particular in so much danger? Only none came to his lips. He simply followed the scribe deep into the earth until the stairs opened upon a stone room with dimmed torches.

****

The room was filled with alcoves which were stuffed full of scrolls. There was a single plain table in the center with more scrolls stacked haphazardly across the surface. The scribe walked over to a torch and added twigs to the fire. His grey hair glittered in the muted light.

****

This was the reason the village sat on a hill. Here was the heart of Wolf Nation. And Stiles was standing in it, with an all access pass. Somehow, that made the shock wear off. He was now alert and completely focused on the task at hand.

**  
“Let me show you the secrets your mate cannot. Let me arm you with the greatest of weapons, knowledge.” The scribe tossed him a scroll and left.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait. This took some time. And frankly it needs more. Like I need to fix some shit here and there. Anyway. You might have noticed a name change. That comes with some story changes that were made while writing this. Things be going down now.  
> As always your support is welcome. And if you want to harass the ever living fuck out of me until I write more you can find me [here. ](http://alyseofwonderland.tumblr.com/)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is not a bedtime story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This hasn't been edited. I wanted to put it up so everyone had something to read. I will go over this with my beta in a few days and repost with fixes and maybe some more detail. (although probably not because i am really bad at this.)
> 
> some things explain at the end.

Gather round my little ones. I have a story for you. A story that is a song. Because the most important part of this story is the voice of our mother the moon. We have no gods like men, only the moon. Only our mother.

 

The song begins like this.

 

Before the grass below your feet, before the wood against your back before the air in your lungs there was the sun. A star so bright it burned all near it. But the sun was not a solitary creature. She grew lonely and longed for companionship. So the sun bore itself a daughter. Earth. A daughter with green and blue and filled with life. She was small and lush but oh so perfect. Earth was everything sun could not be. For sun could have no life for she was too hot. Instead she could give light to her new daughter and help the life of her daughter.

 

The sun loved its daughter earth so dearly that is shone its light on her always. The light poured like water would and kept all things warm and lush. But slowly daughter earth grew. Not quickly like small girls and boys but over time so slowly that the change could not be seen unless one was looking.

 

One day the sun looked down at her daughter and saw that she was too lush and too full. The growth needed a rest, a time to curb its constant expansion of green. So sun bore the moon to hide her face from her daughter so that they might all rest.

 

Moon was different from her sister. Pale and lovely moon could not support life herself. She was barren. But we shall come back to that.  It was moon that we owe our live to my little ones. It was moon that saved us from an expanding depths that hungered to cover all the land in darkness. For you see little ones the sun had made the growth so great that the trees gorged themselves on her light. They covered the earth in darkness while they reached for the sky.

 

But the trees are not the only things that need the sun. All the plants and animals need sunlight to live. Many had moved south of the mountains where the great stones blocked the light. But the wolves did not move.

 

The great wolves. The first hunters of the deep forest. We come from their blood. The first animals to find that their teeth were sharp and the scent of blood sang a song all its own. They were majestic and brutal. To give chase to their prey for miles was their strongest trait. But they would not leave their dens at the heart of the forest.

 

Because for wolves the deep trees were their only home. And for us, home is more than just a place. It’s a feeling a sense that only we can feel. It is a guiding light in the darkness for a wolf can always finds it’s way home no matter the conditions. So we remained little ones.

 

Soon the ground was too dark even for the great wolves to But we climbed the trees of our home. We dug our claws into the bark and carved dens into the living wood high in the peaks near the leaves. We hunted game in the branches.

 

The wolves grew great in numbers in those days. We fought amongst ourselves in tribes and packs, slaughtering our brothers and sister just for space among the branches. Our blood dripped to the floor and stained the ground crimson.

 

It was in this time of blood and death that the blind one was born to us. That is not to say we did not have those who were born blind amongst us. But most fell when their footing slipped and they were lost to us in the darkness. So it was strange that this one did not perish.

 

The blind one had a secret. He could hear the call of the moon. And when the call was strong his senses were better, he was stronger than his brethren. But when the moon was weak and shadowed he learned to walk up right, to hold himself in such a way that he would not fall to the floor.  

 

It was he who discovered the skill to take the shape of a man. It was he who ended the blood and violence. In his new shape The Blind One could construct tools, weapons. He slaughtered those who opposed him as is our way. He brought the packs to heel and with his power created The First Pack.

 

-The Song of the Moon and First Pack

Told by Tannia the Great at the Wedding of her daughter Talia

Recorded Scribe Ian

 

* * *

 

You have heard the tales of the blind one. You have heard the stories of the moon. But do you know the stories of the depths? These are not stories for nighttime little ones, are you so sure you wish to hear?

 

(Scribe note: children were particularly excited at this point and the exact words of the next line cannot be confirmed.)

 

Humans like to believe they are kind and gentle at their core. They tell lies to their children about the nature of man. I will not lie to you my little ones. We are all beasts at heart. But is it not better to know a beast will bit when hurt?

 

(Scribe note: The birthday boy choose this moment to growl at his sister.)

 

Would you like your story or not my boy?

Very well.

 

The blind one, the first of his name and title learned to be a man. He grew hands and arms instead of four paws and legs. He could climb up to the tips of the trees where his brother’s and sister’s claws could not carry them. Some had thought him weak as a cub and had tried to push him to the forest floor, as was our way with cubs who would take more food than needed.

 

It was the moon, his mother that taught him to call on the shape of man. She sang to him in soft tones that only he could hear for he did not have the vision to confuse her music with noise.

 

And when it came to pass that he was able to move freely in his new form he began to rule. It was not an easy task, trying to control and contain the thousands of wolves that lived in the depths. It was not a task for the weak or for a history colored in sympathy.

 

Many wolves fell beneath his wrath. He slew entire packs for injustices so minor we would hardly beat a child for them today. But wolves are not the kind to listen to weakness. He could show no mercy, no remorse in his action or else he would lose the power he had gained.

 

Slowly those who followed him learned to call on the shape of the man. They too gained power in their new shape. They were stronger, faster and more powerful than the wolves that did not follow the blind one. Four of his followers were strong than the others. So he gave them leave to do as they wish and scattered them to throughout the depths.

 

The maiden made her pack in the snow to the north, her wolves living a hard life that only few choose. The brothers who before had been of the same litter traveled in opposite directions never to meet again. The warrior followed the path to the south. It was he who founded our pack. He is the first of our family and he is our guide. He swore his life to the blind one and to the protection of our nation, as each alpha of our line does to this day.

 

(Scribes note: There was a commotion at the party. Peter of the first pack had just arrived. The birthday boy left the party to greet his uncle.)

 

“But mother, what does that have to do with the alpha pack now?” A question from Laura of the first pack.

 

Because my dear, no true alph of wolves can have sight. They must be blind to mercy and blind to hatred. It will be more clear when you are older my dear. Go play with your brother now.

 

-The Tale of the Blind One and his first

Told by Talia the Fair for her son Derek on his fifth year of life.

 

* * *

 

“Breathe slowly.” Scott advised.

 

“Don’t move quickly.” Melissa, Scott’s mother, added handing Stiles the decorative sword he would wear at his hip.

 

“If you can avoid drawing attention to yourself that would be best.” Scott said looking a bit sick.

 

“I’m not ready for this.” Stiles said aloud. It was the only thing he had said for nearly two hours. That was the amount of time since they had taken Derek. Taken Derek. Stiles could feel his heart pounding out of his chest. He wouldn’t be able to do this. He couldn’t pretend to be calm when part of him was beyond frantic.

 

It had occurred so suddenly. Laura had received a note on a raven. Calling it a note was foolish, it had been a single symbol scrolled on a heavy piece of parchment. That was three days ago. Derek and Laura had spent a night in the great hall, locked away from all eyes. Stiles had spent that first night in a wakeful kind of terror.

 

He didn’t need to be a wolf to know that something was happening. First the scribe had forced him to read strange histories and stories told by Derek’s relatives, most long dead. Then a note arrives that rattles even Laura’s resolve.

 

In the pale light of morning Derek had revealed the horror that was coming.

 

“We call them the alpha pack.” His voice has been calm but his pulse leapt on his throat that even Stiles could see the terror. “But they are less of a pack and more,” He paused then. “The closest thing you would have would be a council of kings. They rule us. But more than that they make our justice.”

 

“We did something to offend them?” Stiles doesn’t want to ask what he is sure is the real issue here. Him.

 

“The point of me, and not my sister, taking you as a mate was to avoid this.” Derek said almost absently.

 

“What is going to happen?” Stiles had asked, knowing he would not like the answer.

 

“They will send someone to meet out the justice they believe we deserve for disobeying orders not muddy the blood line.”

 

Which brought them back to the present. Stiles had been with Scott, out in the surrounding trees this morning. They were going over ways for Stiles to climb the different kinds of bark so that he would not need a ladder always. There had been a single howl. One moment Scott had been laughing at Stiles’ complete failure to avoid splinters and then everything had gone still.

 

He had been moving before he realized what was happening. But it was too late. As Stiles broke through the tree line he had seen two figures dragging a blood covered Derek by his arms out of the clearing. Boyd was on the ground, not moving. Even from this distance Stiles could see that he was dead.

 

There was a woman in the clearing. She stood and watched as Stiles and Scott rushed forward to Boyd’s body. She never moved except to tap bare toes. It was only when Stiles confirmed that there was no hope to save Boyd that she moved at all. Scott had lunged.

 

“I wouldn’t.” The power in her voice alone held Scott in his place. “The human will come before us in two hours time. For his part of the justice.”

 

So now Stiles was here. In an antechamber of the great hall, being dressed because he was too shocked to move. He would be able to move the moment he was in the hall. He was sure of that. He had not been crown prince his whole life not to be able to pull it together when he needed to. But it was going to take effort.

 

“Stiles.” The urgency in the voice pulled him from his mind. “They are not to be messed with.” Melissa said in a calm voice. “But you are not powerless against them.”

 

The door opened then. Stiles was surprised to see that he recognized the boy who opened it to be Isaac the wolf he had passed over in favor of Stiles. Isaac was sweating. Stiles gulped.

 

He took a step.

 

His heart rate slowed down.

He took a step.

 

He felt the air in his lungs expand.

 

He took a step.

 

He was ready.

 

Laura sat that the chair the functioned as her throne. But she was not sitting idly or calmly. She was crouched on the seat as if frozen the moment before leaping. There were more wolves in the room than Stiles had been expecting. He could see Peter in the back amongst the columns, his face unreadable and tense.

 

That was when his gaze fell on Derek. The blood was the first thing that stood out, the blood and the sword. Derek lay on the ground with a sword driven through his back. There were handprints in the blood, and a smear of blood down the sword showed that at some point Derek had been crouched on his hands and knees. The woman from the clearing held the hilt in Derek.

 

A king does not flinch in the face of tragedy. Stiles was a heart of stone.

 

“Ah, it arrives.” Came a cool voice. “He is rather sturdy isn’t he. I had been expecting a delicate flower from the south.”

 

“I am not the fool you take me for.” Laura growled and the man connected to the voiced stepped out from the shadows of a column. There were many things Stiles could have noticed, his height, his hair color, the shape of his nose. But the trait that Stiles saw was the glassy milky texture of the man’s eyes.

 

“Blind one.” Stile greeted.

 

“Oh, clever.” The blind one smiled.

 

“And brave.” Stiles heard himself say. This was not the time to smart talk. But then again this was not the time to appear weak.

 

“I had heard.” The blind one nodded. “Congratulations on your mark.” The man turned back to Laura then. “We will not be misunderstood this time.”

 

“And I will not let mine die for your principals.” Laura growled. It was a roar really. No that was wrong. A roar is loud, a roar rumbles the ground. This did that only it was soft.

 

“It’s a good thing I like you.” The blind one said.

 

And then they were gone. It wasn’t magically or instant. But suddenly the tension left the room. The blind one strode out the doors calmly. The woman pulled her swoard out of Derek and sauntered after her leader. Two identical wolves broke from the crowd and fell in line behind the woman. When they reached the door, a tall wolf with a shaved head opened the door and then closed it behind their group.

 

Stiles was on Derek the moment the sound of the door reached his ears. Derek was breathing. He was alive, but not in any shape to move or even speak. There was noise and many of the wolves were moving. Someone was rubbing something into Derek’s wounds. Laura said something. Scott was there.

 

Shit.

 

He was having a panic attack. He could feel it now that his king face was off. Stiles tried to breathe. But that didn’t work. Things got fuzzy. His leg started to burn where the claws had once dug in. His chest ached in the same way. His mouth tasted coopery like blood and salty like tears. Something smelled like smoke.

 

“I don’t believe you Laura.” Derek said.

 

“We find her and they forgive this.” Laura sounded distant. Which was strange because Derek sounded close.

 

“There was nothing to punish. Nothing to forgive.” Derek’s voice seems to rattle Stiles’ whole being.

 

Stiles sat up so quickly he saw black. When his vision cleared he was still in the great hall. In fact he was exactly where he had been before, only instead of standing he was on the ground. The pool of Derek’s blood now coated one side of Stiles. Derek sat next to him on the floor while he could see Laura perched on a rafter across the room.

 

“What?” Stiles practically shouted.

 

“The blind one will let you and Derek live on the condition we find a human princess and slaughter her.” Laura said evenly.

 

“What?” Stiles said softer this time. The blood felt slimy on his skin.

 

“Or I have to kill you and Derek.” Laura paused. “Peter too I suppose.”

 

“Why?” Stiles asks. Everything feels surreal. Something is off about the light, about the air.

 

“I choose to make peace with humans for the sake of the lives I protect. Either I must pay for making a choice without their consent by ending the line of the royal hunters, or I will pay from my crime with the lives of those I protect most. It’s simple really.” Laura climbs the rafters to the ceiling then, and slips between the boards to the roof.

 

Stiles is left confused. Reeling. He feels like he might have gone into shock. This has a similar feel to the days before and after the attack on his compound in the war. It’s the same flavour of panic and calm.

 

His hand is touching something. It’s warm. Derek’s ocean eyes come into view.

 

Is it possible to realize you love someone and that you are going do something awful in the same instant?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have some explaining to do.
> 
> Okay so basically my Alpha Pack is not like in the show. The best I can do to explain them is to say that they are more like the White Council in The Dresden Files if you smooshed them with the canon alpha pack. This has been the biggest part of the delay for this chapter. Originally they were a great deal less violent and I had a romance planned with Laura. I might still work that in but I am really like thrown by how canon Alpha Pack doesn't really work with what I had planned. It's stupid I am sure but I didn't want to have characters be really OCC so I have been trying to find a way to work who they are in this world into a system or reality that makes me happy. 
> 
> The last part of the chapter is suppose to be confusing and stilted. Stiles is not really in his right mind. I can explain if any part of that seems really super duper confusing. But most of it should be clear.
> 
> Kate is coming out to play! (suck it season 3 canon I have no room for the druids atm) (well i do. but that would be giving shit away.)
> 
> After some thought I killed Boyd on a whim. Lolz. I am a horrible person. Idk. Just following Jeff's lead. Also this needed to up the stakes more. 
> 
> More sex next chapter. Promise. Also Derek's POV. And Isaac is going to be like a character and shit now. (Disclaimer: not everyone is going to be able to make an appearance in this story. *cries* You will be missed Danny and maybe Cora.)
> 
> [Come voice your extreme displeasure to me on tumblr.... ](http://alyseofwonderland.tumblr.com/)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse of the war leaves secrets revealed and choices to be made. And an foe appears.

1 Year Ago. The Height of the War.

 

The blood is barely off his hands when Peter drags him into the hall. Everything smells like burning meat and iron so perhaps that is how his uncle was able to come up behind him with no warning.  The smoke of the burning dead clogging the air with the blood and ashes of his brothers. Or maybe it was just that Peter was more ghost than wolf most days. A wolf without his mate was no wolf at all.

 

“You’re late.” Peter growled but there was no force behind it, it was a gentle breeze with a whisper.

 

“I was collecting my fallen squad for the burning.” Derek didn’t think he should have to explain his absence. The night raids were a constant and Derek found himself with more bodies to bury than men to patch up.  It was not his vengeance that had started this war, he had been satisfied in his field with his forge. Derek had been ready to repent as a lone wolf for as long as it took. Instead he was cleaning up chunks of people he had sworn to protect.

 

And yet he could not say the war was unjustified. The fire had not been a single incident. There has been a growing trend. Only when Deaton had finally found the wolfsbane powered in a deployed airship had they known for sure. Argent and Beacon had committed acts of war in Laura’s eyes. And the eyes of those she knelt to.

 

Only...

 

The Blind One stood in the hall when Peter finally managed to put enough force in his push to catapult Derek through the threshold. It was a strange thing to see him in person. In so many ways he was nothing more than a legend for most wolves. A thing to keep children in line and to give soldiers hope. But to see the wolf in the flesh was a different experience. Humans might consider him small or unassuming but the strength of his will could be felt throughout the room.

 

“I don’t think you quite understand the implications of this peace.” The alpha of alphas spoke softly.

 

“I think the price my family paid is higher than yours.” Laura was on her knees. A thing that Derek had never witnessed before. Deucalion stood facing his sister. Derek could not see the others but The Blind One never traveled alone.  There was a soft ticking noise to his left that could be one of the others, and a rustle of air above brought the smell of alpha. He realized that the hall was surrounded.

 

This was not a negotiation.

 

“You have never been mateless, dear Laura. Do not endeavour to insult me.”

 

“I meant no insult.” Laura sounded soft, watery.

 

“But you did.” He sighed. “Your family has always been the guards of our closest border to the humans. It makes sense that over time you would grow sympathetic to their plights.” Deucalion knelt down so he was eye level with Laura. “I suggest you keep in mind the fact that those monsters south of the mountains grow poison for the beauty of it. They let their sick and weak suffer in squalor because they care more for themselves than their pack. They are not allies. They are not friends. There shall be no peace with the abomination while I draw breath.” He stood again then, so that in effect Laura was now once again forced to look up at him. “Am I understood?”

 

Laura nodded.

 

“Good.” There was a pause. “Camden has agreed to serve in The Depths.”

 

There was a snap. The sound of his sister’s heart breaking. It hadn’t been common knowledge that she wished to approach him for a possible mating. It was a family secret actually. Laura did not feel a bond that a normal alpha would to any wolf of equal standing. None of the leaders of the nation seemed to hold her interest. Her attraction to the low ranking soldier was not really a scandal but would create an issue of power for her and the pack in general. It would mean that Derek would be required to choose a mate of significant power or an alpha.

 

But if Camden went to The Depths to serve The Blind One, he would be lost to her forever. Under the care of Deucalion Camden would not be allowed to mate until he had completed ten  years of service, and then only with Deucalion’s approval.

 

The wind raced through the hall and when it passed Derek he could swear there were shapes in it. The door closed and he was alone with his family. The Blind One and his ilk gone in a breeze.

 

“That was foolish of you.” Peter spoke after a long moment.

 

“I did not ask for your counsel uncle.” Laura snapped and turned to leave without even brushing off her knees.

 

* * *

 

 

“So, this, me being here, the treaty everything is technically against the direct wishes of the guy who might as well be your king.”

 

“Yes.” Laura answered from the shadows.

 

They were in the side chamber of the great hall. Derek lay on a cot healing while Laura had finally told Stiles the truth. It was strange really. To understand what Derek had done. Gone knowingly against orders to marry him for peace.

 

“Why?” Stiles turned to look at the alpha who had yet to even glance at him throughout the whole tale, only watching her brother’s slow breathing. “Why risk your own government, so to speak, coming after you just to make peace with Beacon?” Meeting her eyes was a burden, it was easier to look at the flesh mending itself on Derek. The seeping cuts and oozing abrasions were simple

 

“Beacon has nothing to do with my choices. It is simply a sad bystander in the war between Argent and The Nation. Your father refused to let us pass through unhindered, claimed he would not allow war to go past him. So we choose to fight our way through.” Laura heaved a great sigh. “Christopher of Argent is the one who brokered the peace. He came to me with information. His sister and father were responsible for the so called accident that claimed most of my family. He had found proof. But with his father still king and the people loyal he had no way to overthrow him during a war.”

 

“So you bought time.” Stiles realized only after he had said the words that this was exactly the truth. Laura had come to his father with a peace treaty not meant to actually bring real peace but to buy Christopher Prince of Argent time  to take the throne and deliver his father into the care of The Wolf Nation’s Justice.

 

“And your father’s compliance to a point.” There was a pause and he turned to glance at her again. “He understood you would be a hostage to ensure he didn’t make a ruckus about the happenings in Argent.”

 

“Was Derek part of this?” Stiles gasped on the words. They burned as the left his throat, an achy scratch that pulled at his chest. He barely knew his husband when he really thought about it. They had never met before they were wed and only a short time had passed since then.

 

What did he actually know about Derek? He knew Derek had made him a custom wedding ring. He knew Derek liked to collect stones and rocks that contained crystal to decorate his home. He knew Derek had a thing for biting his neck during sex. He knew that Derek did blacksmith work for his pack in order to help.

 

“He knew my choices went against The Blind one. And he followed my orders.” Laura sounded far off. “And now I must choose to either break the rules or his heart.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Was he here?” Isaac burst into the hut that Melissa and Scott used when Scott was not at his duties with Derek’s mate. It was small on the edge of the houses that were allotted for those with human in their blood. The closest to the wolves, something of honor given to Melissa for her service.

 

The doctor and her son looked up at the newly entered wolf and shook their heads. They had been cleaning up the operating table. Melissa had not been needed for Boyd or Derek but there had been other wolves. The Blind One and his pack had not left the village without injury. Many simply walking had been cut, as a warning to the entire pack for the actions of

 

“But The Blind One, he’s here?” Isaac gasped on the breath he had been holding.

 

“ Isaac.” Scott started, reaching for the other wolf.

 

“No.” Isaac pulled his arm back. “She promised.”

 

“Isaac, sit down. Catch your breath.” Melissa motioned to a chair.

 

“She promised he would be back the next time the alpha pack came. Laura promised.” He clasped into the chair in front of him.

 

It had been a rough day for everyone. The alpha pack never left the village in exactly the same state it was before they came. Some times they would bring bounty from the deep, food and jewels. Other times the would come bearing wolves from the other ends of the nation to seek mates. But then there were the times when they came with vengeance on their minds.

 

Boyd was not the only wolf to fall to their hands. A group of wolves who had been disobeying direct order to not grow wolfsbane in any of it’s forms has also been struck down.  Both losses had been more of a punishment for Laura and Derek than anything else. Boyd’s death meant that Derek effectively no long had his own pack to command, only a mate. And the destruction of the wolfsbane farmers meant that should the war start up again they would not have a supply to counteract the effects of the poison weapons.

 

Isaac didn’t care about any of that. He wanted his brother back. He wanted to be allowed into a pack. Neither of those things were going to happen if his brother was locked away in the depths serving the alpha pack. Who would possibly want to take him in? An underfeed wolf with human grandparents.

 

* * *

 

 

Derek woke to a weight on his chest. Strange that it’s the weight he notices first and not the dull throb of pain from different sections of his body. The pain should be the thing that stands out in his mind. Pain is so rare an occurrence to a wolf. The war is over so the pain should be the thing that pulls him to wakefulness. Instead it is the weight pressing in on his sides and chest that stirs him.

 

The faint flutter of air across his torso tells him why. His mate has fallen asleep on his chest while sitting in a chair. Derek opens his eyes slowly to find himself in the antechamber of the great hall. The scent of his blood and the stale salt of tears fills his nose as he takes his first deep breath in hours.

 

He can taste Laura in the mix but doesn’t feel the deep weight that her presence normally carries. He is alone with his sleeping mate. It gives him time to catalogue the small pains. The stinging on his chest. The throb on his throat that still tingles of claws. One ankle feels off and he is sure that it’s fractured and needs to be rebroken and set properly to heal later.

 

Derek gave himself time to remember.

 

Boyd was dead.

 

He concentrated in keeping his breathing even, staying still so as not to wake Stiles. But in reality he wanted to gasp with the pain of it. This was not a wound that his body could stitch back together while he slept. It would haunt him for the rest of his life. Derek would feel this loss as distinctly as he left the loss of his family.

 

Boyd had been the last of his platoon. The last of the wolves Derek had led to battle. The only one to not flee to another area of the nation or die in battle. His silent comfort had been a constant for Derek. His wisdom had been a deciding factor in so many choices Derek considered right.

 

His death was meaningless. A joke. The Blind One’s pack had taken Boyd from him for nothing more than to be a reminder of their power. Their quarrel was with his sister and yet his friend paid the price.

 

Derek lay there trying to make the world stop spinning for what could have been hours. It felt like days. He could scent the oncoming night in the air as the temperature dropped outside and the bugs began to swarm in the setting sun. As a chorus of crickets strummed their legs for their nightly symphony he heard Laura call his name.

 

He was careful, shifting Stiles so that his neck looked more comfortable and made sure his mate didn’t wake. The short walk out of the hall was difficult with his ankle misaligned but he managed to make it to his sister’s side on the other side of the back door.

 

She stood facing the homes behind the great hall. There weren’t that many back down this side of the hill but the few were always full. The gentle candlelight in the windows adding to the flicker of fireflies in the air.

 

Laura had blood on her hands. And her face. There were traces of blood in her clothing and hair as well. None of it was her’s. He could smell his own blood in there as well as Boyd’s but there were others. She had been busy building pyres for her fallen pack members. And from the amount of soot on her shoes Derek is pretty sure she did it all herself.

 

He waits for her to speak.

 

“It’s my fault, my burden.” She exhales after long moments.

 

“We all prefered peace.” Derek defends. He would rather blame his sister. Blame someone for his fallen friend. Have a target of his hate for the loss of pack. But he can’t do that now. He has too much to do to blame his ally and alpha for this.

 

“Do you love him?” Laura asked rather than accept his comfort.

 

“He is my mate.” It was the only answer. A mate was for life. A mate was devotion in all things.

 

“Derek, I am serious.” Laura huffed. “Because we have a choice here. We can either listen to Deucalion and possibly start a war that will lose you your mate as written in the peace treaty. Or we can do nothing and risk everyone’s lives in the process.”

 

“That’s not my choice to make, alpha.” Derek turned to look into the eyes that were so much like his own. “You are the one that has to have the final say.”

 

“I had hoped to know which choice would hurt my poet of a brother more.” Laura’s voice was broken as she stared back into his eyes. So, her choice was made then.

 

“This is all very dramatic my dears, but might I suggest an alternative.” Peter’s voice rang out from the roof of the building. He landed next to them a moment later. “And my idea does involve considerably less death.”

 

* * *

 

 

It would be kind to call it a hut. Hovel might be more appropriate word for the structure. The roof its barely patched and there are holes in the door. The entire structure is leaning against a tree more than supported by it’s own construction. It’s abysmal.

 

She laughs.

 

The creature inside is a bit of a disgrace. The scars and burns maring the features into an indistinguishable mess.

 

“I hope you are actually worth the trek I made to come find you,” she snorts, “because this is a horrible first impression.”

 

“And what exactly has brought you to my home?” The creature asks from it’s place near a sputtering fire.

 

“A mutually beneficial goal.” She smiles.

 

“I have no goals that you might share with me human.” The creature spits.

 

“Oh I believe you do.” She turns to inspect the rows of dusty and moldy bottles that line the walls. “Despite your disfigurements those tattoos are rather distinctive. Such a nice thing the wolves do for us, making it so easy to spot their mates from so far off.” She pauses by a bottle with a familiar label. “But you are no longer a mate, are you my dear. Your love passed you over for power. And now you rott here waiting to die.”

 

“Your insults will land you in the fire.” Hissed the creature.

 

“Whatever.” She flipped her hair. “How do you feel about helping me kill the alpha pack?”

 

The creature considered the offer for a moment. Then with a wave of it’s hand the creature transformed into a woman with glossy brown hair. The effect was rather jarring, but marvelous.

 

“And what should I call my new benefactor?” The Darach now wearing a woman’s face asked.

 

“Kate Argent at your service.” She smiled.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay So.
> 
> I am so sorry this took forever. I mean really. So very sorry.
> 
> Secondly I know that in the previous chapter Derek and Stiles were alone in the grand hall but this is later. Derek isn't healing the alpha wounds and he takes a lie down then Laura comes.
> 
> I know some people were sad about me killing Boyd but I kind of need someone that Derek cares for to die by the alpha's for reasons. Reasons to be revealed. 
> 
> As for that ending. I love me some lady villains. I intend to mess with who dies from here on out. You can thank Indecentdraw for saving some one in particular later. She made a very compelling case. But because of that others now must die!  
> *villain laugh  
> MORE CHAPTERS SOON. I AM DOING A WRITING CHALLENGE. SHORTER WAITS UPCOMING!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love and sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank missargent on tumblr for this. She drew me so I made her something in return.

Stiles felt sick. He was pretty sure that he wasn't in fact sick seeing as there are hardly any illness in the wolf nation. And the fact that he doesn't have any symptoms besides the fact that he feels awful. It's a dilemma for sure. So Stiles decides to beg off organizing the stacks and instead goes to seek out the village doctor.

It seems strange to find a human instead of a wolf but he supposes it makes more sense really. The wolves so rarely get sick and so many of their illnesses are fought by remedies that are known to only them. Stiles feels a little guilty for being even more surprised that the doctor is a woman.

"Hello dear, what can I do to help?" Her smile is familiar. Something about the dimples and the floppy curls on her head tickled the back of Stiles' mind.

Her home is a strange mix of practical and homey. It is one of the few homes in the area with a ground level door, and Stiles figures it would be hard to have the sick climb up a floor just to enter. The front area appears to be dedicated to the doctor portion of her life. There is a desk with parchment and inkwells. There were several benches and cots spaced around the room near the desk. Further in there is a kitchen that seems to have both cooking and healing items strewn about surfaces. He can see more of a home beyond that but the details were hard to see from where he stood.

"Not feeling particularly well." He admitted lamely. There would of course be nothing she could do, this was all mental. Mental anguish over learning some rather disturbing facts and then realizing just how big the hammer the loomed over his head was.

"Well have a seat and we can see what can be done." She pats a long bench near her desk and he takes a seat. "Okay simple questions first." She flashed her dimples. "Name?"

"Stiles." It's not really his name of course but he can't exactly tell the village doctor his full name and title for a quick check up.

"Oh you're Stiles." A wave of warmth bounces off her and envelops Stiles in an embrace. "You are the alpha for my son Scott."

"You are Scott's mom?" Stiles suddenly felt like a bit of an idiot for not seeing it right away. The similarities while not being overwhelming but the resemblance was rather remarkable. "Now I feel horrible for not having met you yet."

"Not to worry my dear," She gives a little head shake "You had a lot to deal with getting your mating mark." As if to explain she pulled at the edge of her shirt to reveal the beginnings of a mating mark on her arm. Only the mark didn't extend as far as Stiles', her's stopped nearly at top of her shoulder. "They stop when you pass out and your fever gets too high."

"Aren't women supposed to be better at handling pain?" Stiles asked before he even thought about the words.

"I suppose but I was pregnant with Scott at the time I got the mark and we had to stop the moment it started to make me feel ill for fear of miscarriage."

"Oh. Well at least you got that far." Stiles offered. "Doctor..."

"Melissa." She smiled with another flash of dimples. "You can call me Melissa dear. After all we are practically family."

"Melissa, I am pretty sure you aren't going to to find anything wrong with me." Stiles shrugs. "I just wasn't sure what else to do."

"Well why don't you tell me what is troubling you, and then we can talk about what I can and cannot do for you." She motioned to have a seat. "You would be surprised at how much of my job is just listening to people's troubles."

"Any advice on how to deal with a potential land war due to several different treaties being broken and a possible murder of a matriarch of a royal family?" Stiles asks just because he can.

"No, but I think we can maybe tackle some of your more personal questions."

"You are one of those mom's that can sense everything aren't you?"

"Ha! No sadly I am not. I wish I was. I am going to take that as a compliment." She ruffled his hair. "But I do happen to have a very chatty son who has mentioned some facts about your life."

"I feel like I should be upset but I am guessing that Scott's sharing is going to help me out here."

"Probably." Melissa swiveled her chair a little thinking. "It's harder for you because you grew up around only humans. I was raised in another village far west of here. We had a more even split of humans and wolves there. Mostly because there was no border to protect, no statement to be made by the alpha pack.

"Where we think in circles they often seem to have a single thought process. We try to access a problem from all directions but a Wolf will attack the problem head on. Many humans think this is some sort of mental weakness in them, but I have lived amongst them too long to see it for anything but what it is. True loyalty and understanding.

"I don't follow." Stiles felt he was missing the point.

"Let's use Scott as an example. Does he ever make choices or do something that seem a little more straight forward to you than you are totally comfortable with?"

"All the time." Stiles smiled. Scott was really a good friend but he tended to treat his duties as much more than something that should be done or had to be done, it was almost as if taking care of others MUST be done.

"For Scott, and for most wolves, they don't just perform chores because it's what they are supposed to do. They do their chores because it's how the remain an active member of a pack. Their identity is more closely tied to their actions." Melissa was starting to make more sense, but still there was so much out there.

"What about their prejudice towards humans?" Stiles asked one of the questions that had bothered him since the day the Alpha Pack had come. Melissa frowned for a moment.

"Think of it this way, how many humans do you know that are completely selfless?" Stiles was left to ponder. "Very few I am guessing. We have an instinctive part of us that wants to protect ourselves more than it wants to care for others."

"And that makes us worth the scorn of the Alpha Pack?"

"No. Maybe not that. But imagine if your instinct was to protect your pack before yourself. Always. Scott is only half Wolf and yet he will throw himself in front of danger for others." Melissa shrugged.

"What about Peter?" Stiles countered. That man was not the type to save others. Melissa let out a long sigh.

"In a way Peter is dead. In the eyes of most Wolves he is already past hope." Melissa waved her hands for a moment. "His pack burned Stiles, died while he was helpless. We know from what he yelled in the days after that he was fighting to save them until the end, but the fire and the drop from the air was beyond his ability to prevent. His reason for living was taken from him."

"Oh." Stiles knew his words were a poor excuse to react to information of that kind. What would he have done in a situation like that? If Wolves had taken everyone he loved from him and killed his will to live. What a joyless place that must be to live in.

"What do I do about the Alpha Pack then?" Stiles asked finally.

"I dont know dear. But you have to trust that your alpha will find a way to fix it."

* * *

Stiles made his way out of Melissa's hut, he had a ways to walk back to his home with Derek so he was in no particular rush. What was the rush anyway? The choices were out of his hands. Stiles had learned long ago that being a Prince did not mean having power, it meant the opposite really. He had the illusion of power, but every choice was taken from him.

Even the choice of who to marry.

It was a strange thought to circle around after so long. Then again they hadn't been married that long really. But this marriage was till death. The blue marks on his arm spoke of that. Derek would remain loyal to Stiles no matter the situation.

It was rather frightening really. What did one do in the face of that kind of devotion. Derek faced death in return for being bond to a human now, for agreeing to a truce. And he didn't waver. How?

Stiles thoughts were interrupted as a small child ran out in front of him. She was a small thing really with a head of curls and a face that was nearly covered in mud.

"You da human?" She asked. Stiles looked around for a parent or a guardian to give the child over to, he was not trained for this.

"Um, yes. I am human." He supplied finally.

"You a pince?" She was trying for Prince clearly.

"Yes." She smiled with a wide toothless grin and then hugged his legs before running off.

What was that about?

* * *

Derek woke that night with a hunger in his heart. He had healed in the days following the alpha's attack but a part of him was still wounded. He had lost a pack mate. And a power greater than he now demand his mate. It was a burning in the heart of him. A fury with which there was no water to quench it.

But there was his mate. He beautiful strange stunning mate. Who had endured the mating mark father than most, farther than many. Who seemed delighted by Derek's love of the treasure of the soil. Who was trying to think like a Wolf.

Derek knew it was hard. How could a human understand that a single vow could change one's life in every way. There were not words for such things. Besides actions always spoke the loudest.

He rolled over in the furs to find Stiles spread on his stomach near the edge of the bed. His mate loved to have his limbs spread in slumber. It was mildly annoying habit, pushing Derek away in the night. But it did mean that some things were easier.

Derek crawled down Stiles' back, leaving a trail of ghost kisses. Stiles hummed in his sleep. Derek smiled as his goal was reached. With his hands he spread his mate and licked.

"Hmmer" Stiles whimpered.

Derek licked again. And again. And again.

Stiles began to moan in earnest. With each lick he awoke slightly more. He responded slowly, opening his legs, pushing back, wiggling to find a better spot.

Derek reached for the oil on the table and poured, a whimper escaped Stiles' lips at the touch of the cool liquid. Perhaps he should take more time, care more deeply for Stiles. But the hunger in Derek screamed that he needed to feel his mate. He trembled with the need and with the fear. So he plunged in a single movement, finally startling Stiles awake.

"What a way to wake up." The boy smiled as Derek moved to grip his neck and hold him still as Derek began to thrust. "I am starting to get used you waking me up like this." Stiles mumbled between thrusts with is face pushed into the sheets.

It was true, this was the third time since Derek had healed that he and felt complete to take him in the middle of the night. But he had no way to stop the need in him until they were joined. It did not matter how. Last time Derek had sunk onto Stiles as he lay face up in the bed.

It was the skin that mattered. The heat. It did not matter if it was a wet clench or a deep fullness. They needed to be touching. He needed the release.

It wasn't long before Stiles began to moan. High reedy needy noises. Derek knew what he wanted, to be allowed to rise, to be able to touch himself. But Derek would now allow this. Stiles would come from only them. He had not touched himself last the hunger had gripped him.

"Please, Derek." Stiles begged. Derek fell forward and twisted his hands with Stiles, laying now fully atop the boy and trapping him more fully. He shushed Stiles and rubbed his face on Stiles' neck and shoulders, paying special attention to his mating mark.

Stiles was close, so soon. It felt too short to Derek. He wanted hours, days, to feel this connected. But he could feel Stiles tremble as the first signs of his completion began. So Derek did the only thing his instinct still urged, he bit. His teeth longer in some places pierced Stiles ever so slightly, not cuts but the deepest of bruises. It was that pain, the pleasure heightened that threw Stiles over the peak. And his peak pulled Derek, ripped it from him with an iron grip.

He did not move for a long while after. Simply held himself atop his mate breathing in the scent of them. When he felt Stiles begin to fall asleep again Derek set about licking the bruises he had produced on his mate's neck and shoulders.

It was just as Stiles began to fully drift back into slumber, as Derek drew a long line with his tongue over the blood pooling at the surface of skin, that Stiles spoke.

"I love you too."

Derek felt torn and bloody despite the lack of wounds. So his hunger had a name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *flees into the night with no other explination


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things fall into place and pieces begin to move.

Being King is never an easy task. Alaric had grown up knowing the difficulties, had watched his grandfather and his father struggle to deal with the constant stress and turmoil. Beacon was not the safest country to rule. They had no access to oceans or major waterways, save for a handful of mountain lakes inside the mountain range that spanned most of their lands. Being land locked between two warring nations added to the normal problems of rule.

There was a reason they had taken to the mountains, it was the only way to avoid the slaughter the wolves and the Argent’s armies had brought on their people. Then finally times changed. Industry swept its reach through the nations and suddenly the Argents had better things to do than kill a race of people that obeyed the laws of nature to their core. The wolf nation kept to their borders and seemed to not care for the booming industry of metal beyond their mountains.  

It had been looking up there for a few years. The Argents had made an overture of peace to the Wolf Nation offering a marriage treat. That had gone up in smoke. Literally.

Alaric had never liked the airships. Something about the engineering of the ships had sat wrong with him. The Argents had created them too quickly, the gifts to the wolves had seemed too extravagant. And then they had burned in the sky with the majority of the first pack inside. Alaric had known war was coming, just like he knew it was coming now.

The trumpets blaired to life, announcing his arrival at the gates to the palace. Strange that going to visit other humans felt more like visiting a wolf den than the actual wolf den.

* * *

The great hall of Argent is not like the halls of Beacon. Then again Alaric had grown up in the white halls of marble and stone. It was the amount of light that gave the two throne rooms such difference. Beacon’s natural altitude leant itself to warm sun glow through the skylights on any day. The Argent throne room sat at the center of a fortified castle with battlements upon battlements, it was dark and thick in here.

“Alaric, what brings this visit?” King Gerard questioned from the throne once Alaric had been announced. “The treaty holds and unless you have another son to marry my daughter or granddaughter I considered our business done.”

“Your son asked for me to visit. He wished to discuss the new trade agreement with the eastern alliance.” Alaric motioned to the three scribes he had brought with him. Gerard pursed his lips.

“I didn’t know that we were discussing joining the alliance.” Gerard regarded his son with an icy glare. To his credit Prince Chris did not look phased at all by the stare he was receiving, standing two steps lower than his father.

“The trade routes would need to cross parts of our lands. It would be prudent to know the terms and to also perhaps ask for tolls or tax on the trade routes.” Prince Chris offered. Alaric knew they had planned to speak of this. Because there were things in this castle that he needed, that everyone needed.

“That sounds more like it.” Gerard nodded. “You are welcome to dine with us this evening.”

“It would be my honor.” Alaric gave the formal bow and left the great hall.

* * *

“I dont like this Chris.” Alaric stated when they were finally in the study alone.

“You are about to like it even less.” Chris pulled a leather bound book off the shelf and revealed a compartment inside. There was a key. “I told you before about the new weapons, but I just learned of the true depths of evil my father has fallen to.” Chris turned to a corner and inserted the key into a near invisible hole in the shelving.

* * *

There are voices. She is used to voices. They bring new men down here regularly. Show them the ropes. She doesn’t flinch when they grow close. She waits.

“Spirits take us.” Says a deep voice.

“I think she’s royal.” Another male voices. She despises the male voices.

“Wolves don’t have royal’s Chris, they have First Pack.” The first voice.

“That makes her your daughter in law.” The second voice sounds grave.

Cora bares her teeth. Men. They will see how sharp her claws are. They will feel the moon child’s wrath.

* * *

Stiles feels funny. Sick maybe. He asks Scott for tea and spends some of the morning just trying to convince himself that going to the archives is a good idea. He needs to get things done. He wants to talk to Laura about the humans of the pack. He needs to have a serious talk with Derek about what their next course of action is.

Mostly he needs to speak to his father. Or get a message to his father. Because if he is killed the treaty gets broken and the war begins again. The smell of books helps. The danger is farther away when he is in the archives. It’s nothing like the library at home, and the book master is nothing like his old tutors.

It seems strange thinking of his home. Stiles had spent all his life in the high towers of Beacon. There had only been the one trip to his mother’s homeland when he was a child. He misses the white stone and the winds. The palace howled, always howled, with the winds of the mountains. Here the howling is low, deeper. The wolves howl at night for all manner of reasons. But you can hear the difference. There is a strange howl this morning, it rumbles through the pack and then reaches Laura. Stiles can tell Laura’s howl from the others, it’s the only one that makes him feel terrified no matter what kind of howl she gives. He is sure the other alphas would have the same effect.

When Laura howls Stiles feels pain. In his leg he can feel the claws sink in again. He feels the flow of his blood down his leg. Stiles knows that when Laura howls he smells of prey.

Scott finds him in the archives trying to make sense of several texts about human law and the rights of the alpha pack.

“Is it just you down here?” Scott eyed the stacks of books and rows upon rows of scrolls.

“I think so.” Stiles looked up at the man he was now starting to consider a friend. “Why?”

“Nothing major, probably.” Scott moved a wee bit closer. “Where are a couple wolves missing. Derek said I should come be with you until we find them.”

Stiles stopped reading. “How serious is this?”

“Pretty big.”

Stiles feels sick again.

* * *

“Who’s missing?” Derek asks when he finally makes it to his sister and uncle.

“Jackson and three others from his pack.” Peter is squatting down in the mud looking at several leaves.

“Was it…”

“No. Wrong scent.” Laura came out from behind a tree. She was naked and covered in the mud and leaves of the forest. She reached for the stack of clothes she had placed near the base of the tree. “The pack is gone for the time being.”

“Then what exactly happened?” Derek glanced at Peter who continued to make a study of crushed leaves.

“I have put scouting packs back on patrol.” Laura shook her head to dislodge some pine cones.

“To find the missing princess.” Peter sing songed.

“No. To keep us better informed. We were blind to the Pack coming. We haven’t kept the rangers up into the mountains since the peace treaty was signed. It’s a mistake. I plan to fix it.” Laura’s eyes harden. “There is no blood smell. They weren’t attacked.”

“But it smells like something.” Derek could hear the thing his sister didn’t want to say.

“It’s a strange plant smell, something I don’t recognize.”

“Humans?” Peter growled still crouched on ground.

“I think so.”

So the war was going to start again. There was going to be blood shed regardless of what Derek did at this point. Pack members were missing, the Alphas and their ultimatums and finally the humans.

None of this is what Derek wanted. He had been so close to happiness. His pack was healing. His mate had settled into their life and was growing in the pack.  

It was coming tumbling down.

* * *

Derek got back late that night. Stiles realized that his husband who normally worked in his forge all day hadn’t touched the fires in days. There was talk all through the pack of missing members and danger that lay ahead. Stiles didn’t want to be frightened by it.

Derek was half asleep when Stiles asked.

“I need you to teach me to fight.” That had Derek sitting up in bed and looking at Stiles shocked.

“You were in the war.” Which Stiles had come to learn was the Derek version of being confused.

“I learned how to fight like a human. To use human weapons. I need to fight like pack.”

Derek got a funny look on his face, like something was shifting in the world and he didn’t have a perch to hold on to. Stiles reached out and touched Derek’s face. It was such a strange world. He was married to a man he barely knew. A wolf really. Who had made grand romantic gestures and never could make his words come easy. He didn’t know what Derek had been like as a child. He could barely name any of the foods Derek liked to eat.

And yet.

And yet he could feel Derek in his soul.

 

“You are pack.” Derek said finally.

“I know.” Stiles smiled. He would ask Scott about it.

  
Derek held him forcefully that night, tucked tight against his body. It was like he thought Stiles might fly away in his sleep. In the morning Derek pinned him down and forced an orgasim out of Stiles so quickly he didn’t have words for what had happened. It felt a bit like Derek was trying to say something but didn’t know how.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my aunt almost died recently. She went in because they found cancer but after the surgery she started to bleed internally and her heart stopped. So I have been dealing with that because this she is basically my mom because my mom is a complete asshole and an idiot and doesn't care about her children. 
> 
> Again sorry about the delay. I really am trying to write when I can. But I have a full time job, taking masters courses, trying to deal with some real heavy life stuff, and remain sane.
> 
> Thanks again everyone for sticking with it.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A princess returns. A Monster appears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi All!
> 
> So sorry it has taken me actually forever to update this. I cannot begin to express how bad I feel. I am always busy and then of course there was the fact that I kept loosing where I had written parts of this chapter. I actually found all the different pieces and cobbled them together finally.
> 
> Additionally part of why this had taken so long is I had to redo my entire outline for the story. When I started writing I didn't have some of this stuff planned. But I am the type of writer who tends to kind of let the story lead me. Well it led me off into a weird mazed of ideas and frankly some of those had to be pruned.
> 
> Pydia is now a thing. YAY. I swear I have in my notes I wanted it to be Cora and Lydia. And then I was writing this and Peter busted down a wall, thore off his shift, threw himself on top of Lydia and hissed at Cora (IN MY MIND). So I kind of cut that part because I didn't have my heart in it to begin with.
> 
> I think things are now better setup for how I want them to be set up. I promised to make attempts at updating. But I am very easily distracted.

Stiles didn’t know how much longer he could take this. His days were starting to run together into a river of pain and frustration.

He woke each morning to find Derek wrapped around him, a furnace of heat at his back. His husband was a clingy sleeper. Or had become one recently. Stiles woke often to a sore neck or back from having spent the night curled into himself with Derek at his back. On good days he got out of bed with enough time to eat and bath. On bad days he is woken up by Scott shaking him and telling him it’s time to go.

 Stiles spends his morning pouring over ancient texts. The Pack has records dating back to the beginning of Wolf and Human interaction, and some before that. He doesn’t yet know what he is searching for. A way to stop the coming war? A way to save himself? A way to save everyone? The only thing he does know is that it’s here somewhere, buried.

The afternoons are spent in training.Training wasn’t easy. In the military Stiles had used weapons and been protected most of the time by a fortress or by his squad. Here he had to fight with his fists or feet and was exposed except for trees. It didn’t help that his instructors seemed determined to put him in an early grave. Today he had Peter.

“Again.” Peter barked at Stiles. Stiles looked to his alpha to see if she would give a reprieve. Laura was relaxed, bored even, but she showed no sign of granting him a break. Peter rolled his shoulders and stood loosely waiting for Stiles to attack. Looking for the world a picture of ease. They were both caked in mud and leaves but on Peter it looked natural. Derek was off doing something else, Stiles wasn’t exactly sure what but there had been a big fuss earlier. Some of the human members of the pack had been instructed to go with Derek.

Stiles refocused to his current predicament. They stood in one of the many small clearings in the forest. It had taken Stiles a long time to get used to these tiny pockets of light and calm in the darkness. It was strange how he had never really considered the fact that tall dense trees meant darkness on the forest floor. Fall was in the air and added a crisp burn to his aching lungs.

Laura stood watching him closely. Stiles was getting over his fear of her, slowly. His fear of Peter still burned hot in his chest and every time the Wolf struck him Stiles was sure that he meant the blow to kill. He supposed that was why they had chosen Peter to do Stiles’ training. There would be no easy friendship between the two of them.

She was like Derek in many ways. They had the same expressions and the same cheekbones. Their eyes were similar but not the same. Derek’s eyes were rainbows of the sky that shifted with his mood and brightened when he smiled. Laura’s eyes were a kaleidoscope of sunsets, bleeding red into every crack and corner that wasn’t occupied being brown or blue.

Peter attacked again, claws scraping against Stiles’ training leathers. He dodged, kicked, rolled, spun. Stiles did not win this round but he remained unmarked albeit on the ground.

“Again.” Stiles felt his leg try to give out on him when he tried to stand. He pounded his fist into the aching muscle trying to force it to move.

“Enough.” Laura sighed, swiping a mud covered hand into her braids. “Go rest that leg in the stream.” The alpha indicated a path from the clearing. If Stiles concentrated he could hear the gurgle of water. He limped his way there, feeling the failure the entire way.

* * *

 

“He has the smell.”

“That’s not proof.”

“You were once to be our scribe.”

“That doesn’t mean I believe.”

“Belief is not the question.”

“He lives.”

“For now.”

“The Pack needs this.”

“Understood, Alpha.”

* * *

 

There was a scream in the wilderness. A cry of agony and triumph. It blasted for a fraction of a second and then left a hollow silence. The time had come.

* * *

 

Derek stood at the edge of the forest watching the approach of horses. The scouts had alerted them of movement in the pass during the night. Laura had given Derek the task to see who it was that came at this time of trouble. His men, both Wolf and Human, were stationed in the trees above him. It gave the scouts a better view of the approaching riders but left Derek in a poor line of sight.

He closed his eyes and inhaled. He could smell the horses. Their stink of sweat and pain first. But next he smelled their fear. Horses rarely smelled of fear around humans. There was a wolf on that horse.

That could only mean trouble. Wolves didn’t live south of the range. Not if they could help it. They didn’t cross the range either unless it was needed. As the three horses approached Derek grew tense. Stiles would say that he was nervous. Stiles had words for the thing that Derek felt when Derek didn’t know how to describe. It was intimidating, all those words to connect to smells and taste and sense.

Derek didn’t have those words to describe the way his chest felt when he looked at Stiles. How could any verbal noise ever cover the scope of his heart when he saw his mate take his tattoo and become pack? Words were silly flimsy things in comparison to actions.

The riders slowed as they reached the tree line. Derek could see that two were female and the third was a knight of some rank in Beacon. The first female had hair like a sunset and smelled faintly like Stiles. Derek remembered her face, blurry and in the distance from his ‘wedding’. It seemed so long ago that he had performed that human right of marriage.

The second female was wrapped in blankets and tied to her horse. Derek froze. His nose and his eyes were telling him things that his mind could not comprehend.

“Cora?” It was ripped from his throat, scraping him as the word escaped.

“She doesn’t speak.” The knight jumped down from his horse and removed the leather working that had held his sister to the horse. The moment his sister was free the beast bolted. Cora was limp in the knight’s arms.

“What did you do?” Derek growled.

“Sedative.” The woman spoke now. “She’s feral.” D

Derek stood there, holding his baby sister who was supposed to be dead burned alive in a fire and flung to the earth. He had so many questions, but he didn’t have the words for them. Stiles would know.

“Follow me.” Derek motioned with his head. “Leave the horses.”

* * *

 

Stiles stood in the river letting the coldwater wash over his aching body. He was getting better, it was a slow process but he was getting there. His combat training had him now at a point where even Peter couldn’t mop the floor with him every time.

He looked up at the leaves above and felt home sick. His chest ached for his father and for Lydia. He missed his stupid tutors and the people of Beacon. And yet he love this wild place too. Stiles had always been pale found that his skin could take a tan, a minor one, and that he was growing in ways he hadn’t expected. No wonder most of the Wolves he met were solid muscle. There was no way around adding bulk out here.

Laura didn’t come searching for Stiles. He realized she must have called Peter off to let the man go terrorize someone else. Or perhaps she was locked up back in the war room of the side of the great hall, pouring over the maps he had brought her. He hoped the maps would be returned to the achieves uninjured.

His alpha had a bit of a temper. Frustration became violent around both Derek and Laura, and Peter as well now that Stiles considered it. They acted the same but it was the minor differences that stood out. All three were thinkers but only Peter and Laura seemed to be able to express these thoughts. All three were doers but Derek seemed to be able to accomplish what his sister and uncle would struggle to follow through with.

Stiles didn’t have siblings but he wondered if others had ever seen such similarities between his father and himself. Another stab of homesickness.

A gust of wind rocked the trees over head and Stiles looked to the branches. He was getting to be a better climber, a trait that all Wolves seemed to posses. His leg was no longer cramping at the thought of movement. Stiles stretched out on the soft moss near the river back and when he felt adequately limber he climbed the nearest tree.

Trees here were taller than they appeared, great masses of bark and branches reaching up into the sky. Stiles was surprised about how far he could make it up a tree these days. He blamed it on Laura. She tended to hold important meetings in the upper branches of a tree near the great hall or on the roof of the hall itself.

Stiles stood looking out at the mountain range that separated his new home from his old. He sighed wistfully and thought about climbing down and crawling to his husband to beg for a back rub.

If he hadn’t been lost in thought than he might have noticed the approach. Might have seen the figures in the forest below or felt the tree shake with a new weight.

Claws gripped his neck for a second and then Stiles was falling, plummeting to the ground helpless, unable to move. He felt something break on impact with a branch, and then another bone. By the time he hit the ground Stiles knew nothing but agony. He screamed.

“No, no, no, no.” Came a cruel voice. “It’s a human you idiot.”

“He smells like a wolf.” Came a second voice, distorted and wrong.

“What use is he if he can’t be controlled to kill the monsters?” The cruel voice sighed, some one kicked Stiles.

“I made you a monster.” The second voice. “You commanded it to attack.”

“Fine.”

And then they were gone. Stiles screamed. Then realizing his error he howled or tried to howl.

  

* * *

 

Peter had heard the stories from his mother. The tales of Wolves who found mates by smell. Who crossed the range to bring home the one the moon had choosen fro them. He had grown up with those stories.

Then he had mated. She had been beautiful and strong and he had treasured her. His cubs had been the light of his life. A second moon in his heart pulling at him always.

They were gone now. All gone. Taken by filthy humans and their weapons and fire. Peter loathed every last one of them. It was easier to hate the race than confront the hole within. To think of his emptiness. Better to fill it with rage. Better to kill. Just Better.

The smell came out of the woods and wrapped around him like an embrace. Wisps of scent touched his skin and he felt a kiss. Peter felt punch drunk and dizzy. He stumbled as he ran towards the great hall, following the scent.

Derek stood with Deaton and Laura seemed to be there as well. He saw them but didn’t. There was another, a wounded feral Wolf beraly more than a wolf anymore. A man. And….. her. The scent poured off her in waved. Richer for the sweat and oil fo travel. It was intoxicating.

She turned, her hair the autumn leaves, and he saw that she was human. And he hated her with every fiber of his being.

 

* * *

 

Cora was alive. Cora lived. Their sister. The littlest pup. Here, whole and breathing. Tears spilled out of Laura with a joy she hadn’t expected. When had she last felt this joy? Never? She stroked the matted hair back from her sister’s face and simply lived in this moment of peace. Deaton was explaining something to Derek. Something about torture and wolfsbane and who knew what else. But that didn’t matter. No one would hurt Cora now. She would be with her people. She would be with her Pack.

There was a howl. It ripped through the air.

Laura felt her heart break.

“Stiles!’ Derek cried in agony. Her brother ran.

Laura turned to look at the healer. “Call Melissa. Call every pack healer you can reach.” She turned to Peter. “Guard them.”  Laura indicated the unfarmilar humans that had come into her territory.

It was war then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking with me! I am so so sorry. 
> 
> I love hearing how much all of you love this story. Please come bother me on [tumblr ](http://alyseofwonderland.tumblr.com/) or visit [my youtube ](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCLTLg87ex-_da8wN0JzDYgA?) to see the other project I get wrapped up in when not putting off writing this.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our wolves face difficult choices and options. Stiles learns that myths can have bigger impacts on his life than he would have ever thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters relatively close to each other in publishing.

Stiles wakes in a special kind of pain he hasn’t felt since the war, the skin itch of bandages and a plaster setting. The room smells wrong. That bothers Stiles the most for some odd reason. He can feel the dull ache of pain in several places but mostly he knows the room smells wrong. 

“Ugh.” He groaned and then there was water on his lips. He hasn’t even realized how parched he was until the water touched his throat. The staleness of his mouth a minor disgust. This felt like when he woke up after the attack on the compound in the war. The air shifted and suddenly everything smelled better, there was a hand on his face.

 

“You are safe.” Derek’s voice was a statement of fact. Stiles felt himself smile, his eyes appeared to be taped down with some kind of cloth. His husband, his mate, was worried and trying to comfort him. Derek with his struggle to verbalize on the best of times had just told Stiles that he was save. He might as well have written a sonnet. 

 

“Where am I?” Stiles didn’t mean to ask that. He wanted to ask a million other questions but that was what came out of his mouth.

 

“The human enclosure.” Derek sounded annoyed. It must be driving him mad not to have Stiles hidden in their den where he could hiss at everyone who came near.

 

“Melissa had to set my bones.” Stiles puts two and two together. Wolves could heal a broken bone in an hour or two. Only the human healer would have the knowledge needed to keep Stiles alive. 

 

Derek’s hand moves from his face to his neck, removing the cloth in the motion. Stiles finally opens his caked eyes to see his husband’s bearded face. Derek’s hair was a mess Stiles could see dried blood in Derek’s hair.

 

“How bad?” Stiles asks the sad eyes staring at him in his mate’s face. 

 

Derek’s face is a map of pain. Stiles is shocked for a moment because there is now way it’s that bad. If it was that bad he would be in more pain. It can’t be that bad. Then Derek removes his hand and Stiles feels the pain all at once. 

 

It had been hiding somewhere, scared to appear in the face of the sheer force of his mate; but the pain was a coward that returned the moment Derek’s touch fled. Stiles cries out from the shock of the pain. He can barely breathe around it. Derek’s hand is back and the pain flees like the coward that it is. 

 

“Oh good, you’re awake.” Melissa stepped into the room with a tired smile. 

 

“How bad is it?” Stiles is able to ask now that he has his breath back. Melissa sighs and sits down next to the cot on a threadbare chair.

 

“You have a broken arm. Your ribs are cracked and you are bruised on the majority of your body. I had to stich up your face and four other places. You are held together by string and sheer stubborn will.” Melissa speaks in that even tone of doctors everywhere.

 

* * *

 

Derek has never heard a human howl. Why would they even try? They have no pack and never need to locate one another in the forest. But when that noise rips through the air he knows that a human howl is the worst noise he will ever hear. Because there is only one human in his life that really matters. Only one human that might feel compelled to howl.

 

There is pain in that noise. A pain Derek doesn't know how to understand or verbalize. A physical pain and emotional. Fear. Derek can hear his mate's fear and it's killing him. 

 

His feet take him before his mind has moved from terror.

 

Stiles was on the blood soaked ground. It was what stood out to Derek the most. Not the face that his arm looked odd or that clearly his breathing was labored. It was the blood leaking from his mate into the forest floor. 

 

"Derek." Laura's voice is a command. Derek is snapped out of his thoughts to realize that he has crouched over his mate and his guarding him against the others. "He needs medical attention. Stand down."

 

Derek growls, he can't help it. His mate is bleeding and there are strangers in the pack. Peter rips Derek off the ground by the scruff of his neck. Derek takes a swipe at his uncle but in that time Deaton and Melissa have appeared to tend to Stiles.

 

How long was Derek over him? There is no way both could have appeared so quickly. But then Derek remembers Scott, who is bound to Stiles by pack and who had gone to spend time with his mother in the human enclosure. He must have sent the healers. 

 

* * *

 

It was dark now. Derek had left finally to sleep. It had become clear that his mate hadn’t slept since Stiles was injured. The wolf was running himself ragged with worry. Scott had been ordered to drag his pack leader back to his den and force him to eat something before being placed in his bed.

 

Stiles was trying to sleep but he couldn’t seem to manage that. Everything smelled wrong and felt wrong. Stiles wasn’t sure when he had started to adopt wolf habits but it was too late to stop now, clearly. The small differences in the cot compared to his bed with Derek made sleep a distance memory, even with his pain now soothed with herbs. 

 

The door slid open.

 

“Hello?” Stiles had no idea who could possibly be coming into Melissa’s hut at this time of night on a dark moon.

 

“Sorry to disturb you.” The deep even tones of Deaton came out of the darkness. “I came for my supplies.” The wolf walked over to a cabinet and opened a lowered door and began removing small boxes and vials. 

 

“At this hour?” Stiles looked out at the dark sky.

 

“Some of the ink must be soaked in the moonless night.” Deaton explained as he arranged the vails on a wooden tray.

 

“You’re the one with magic around here.” Stiles admitted. He knew nothing of how the wolves treated their healer. Or whatever strange title that Deaton seemed to hold in the pack that was not like any others. 

 

“I am not the only one.” Deaton turned and looked significantly at Stiles with an egonmatics smile. 

 

“What do you mean?” Stiles hadn’t really had any interaction with Deaton outside of receiving his mating tattoo, so he had no way of telling if this was some kind of cruel joke. 

 

Deaton walked over and brushed a hand against Stiles’ mate tattoo. His fingers stopped on one particular wolf in the design and then skipped over to just below Stiles’ ribs. 

 

“You have the power of life her.” Deaton told him with a cryptic little head tilt.

 

“That’s an old superstition.” Stiles was not going to be fooled by this strange wolf. “Wolves cannot get a man pregnant. It’s an old tale meant to scare men off wolf land. It’s practically racist.”

 

“Then why did the treat include language about offspring?” Deaton raised an eyebrow.

 

“Because our ministers demanded it be put in there. They wanted to hold out hope that they could get their crown prince back. Also there were three amendments to the language to include the possibility of additional reproductive choices.”

 

“Your sense of smell has improved.”

 

“Things smell stronger here.”

 

“You are tired more often.”

 

“I am busy. There is a death threat on my life.”

 

“You are struggling to eat certain foods.”

 

“I am getting used to local cuisine.”

 

“Sex has gotten better.”

 

“Yes.” Stiles admitted. Sex had been mind numbingly good recently.

 

“The mark does not lie.” Deaton pointed to one of the wolves in Stiles’ tattoo. “The cub is a new shade. It is still blue but it is darker now. Deeper in your skin.”

 

“I cannot be pregnant.” Stiles states with certainty.

 

“Not without the pure love of a wolf.” Deaton offers before he moves to pick up his vials and head off into the night.

 

* * *

 

Laura stares at the broken thing that is her sister. They had thought Cora dead in the flames that had consumed the rest of the family. But no one had ever seen her get on the airship. The truth was clearly much worse. What was a death in flames compared to the years that Cora had been forced to endure.

 

“Did your King explain how the Argents cam to have her?” Laura asked the Knight Parrish.

 

“Only that the crown prince had helped him in her escape.” Parrish was dressed as a wolf now. It would raise red flags to suddenly have two non-pack humans running around the nation outside of the human enclosure, and Laura did not think she had the real power to contain them without war. 

 

It was strange how natural Parrish looked in the leathers. Even Stiles had taken weeks to grow accustomed to their style of dress. But Parrish wore it like a second skin, moved with the grace of a wolf. It made Laura's skin itch.

 

"What are your orders now?" They had delivered Cora to her family, there could not be much else for them to accomplish in the Nation.

 

"I am to protect Princess Lydia." Parrish answers in that clipped tone of his. Humans have such a strange way of speaking to her. As if they expect her to snap her fangs at them for not giving her the answer she desires.

 

"Nothing further?" Laura doesn't need more distractions. Doesn't need this kind of chaos in her pack.

 

"I serve at the pleasure of the princess." Parrish puts emphasis on 'pleasure' and Laura feels her hackles rise. Humans, she might never understand them. They say things with words and their bodies tell other stories. 

 

"Well tell your princess it's time to leave." Laura stood. Parrish had been behind her and instead of moving back a step the way most low ranking wolves or humans would he held his ground. It left them a breathe apart. Her skin tingled.

 

"She won't go, not while her cousin is on his death bed." Parrish had green eyes. Laura thought they might be the shade of leaves in sunlight.

 

"He lives." Laura had personally checked on her brother's mate just his morning."He will recover shortly."

 

"His bones were broken." Parrish looked as if he wished to smile. Why? What could this human possibly have to smile about?

 

"Stiles caries the mate mark of my pack. He will recover quickly." Laura's face felt hot and she didn't like that she couldn't track the reason for her reaction.

 

Parrish stood in front of her for another heart beat before he took a step back and made space for her to walk past him. He would be trouble she knew. They both would. Humans meant trouble. She wasn't just saying that because Peter had been muttering on and on about how awful humans were for the last several hours. She was saying that from experience. 

 

* * *

 

Peter had been so sure of his course of action. He knew what must be done. His niece and nephew were weak hearted creatures and they were killing his people over their love of humans and peace. Peter had known that Deucalion had given him the perfect opportunity to end it all. To kill Laura and seize the power for himself. 

 

The problem was that he had grown to tolerate the little human. Stiles wasn't the worst thing that had ever happened. For a human Stiles was extremely interested in Wolf Lore. The boy spent days and nights reading through the archives and finding old treaties and stories only Peter had still cared for. 

 

Peter had changed his mind, considered that maybe leaving Derek and his mate alive could be useful. Oh for sure his nephew would hate him until his last breath but it would be a waste to snuff out such a life. 

 

Then she came.

 

He loathed her. She spit in the face of his family and his life. Peter who had lost his entire family to the violence of humans found himself drawn to a human. It made him sick. Her scent made him burn. He felt he was being consumed by flames again and the only choice was to jump or burn.

 

He had been so sure.

 

It appeared it would be his death to end this struggle. Peter had no desire to betray his mate and cubs who lay burned to ashes in the wind. He would be the sacrifice instead of his niece. 

 

How strange that he should be the hero at the end of this story. Or at least appears as such.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay!. I hope you enjoyed.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Laura and Derek are incapable of action then Peter will do what must be done to protect them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going to apologize again for taking a year to update this story. I have been struggling with my muse for a while now.
> 
> I have mentioned previously that my mother and I have a twisted relationship and it's been a large drain on my ability to do many things. She is a black hole that sucks up everything she can and I can't break my connection to her because if I do she takes it out on my brother. 
> 
> This week I got the new album by Marianas Trench and one song gave me a flash of Derek in his leathers and Stiles with his blue and purple tattoo fighting to protect each other and I knew I had to come back to this story.
> 
> Turns out I had this chapter already written. I just forgot I had it. I feel terrible. All of you have been so wonderful about this story and I read every review and kudos and cherish them. 
> 
> I have gotten a lot of wonderful reviews about my world-building. As an apology, I wanted to talk more about some the world building I have done.   
> When I was 13 or so I had this dream that was perhaps the most vivid dream I have ever experience. In the dream, there was a deep forest filled with redwood trees and werewolves that leap from tree to tree. This image as been a major influence in this story. 
> 
> Once again I don't have a beta reader but I did read through the story to try and find mistakes, but my dyslexia means I will have missed many.
> 
> Thank you all again so much for reading and staying with me! It means the world to me.
> 
> Don't forget I am always willing to talk on Tumblr: alyseofwonderland and Twitter:alyseofwnderlnd !

Peter did not fault his niece and nephew for their current lack of focus. They had things on their mind. Derek's mate had been nearly killed and Laura had just discovered their sister was alive and had two humans to keep hidden in the pack as well.

If they had clearer minds they might be more concerned about the missing pack members and the fact that Stiles had not fallen from that tree by accident. They wouldn't listen to him. But Peter had arrived on the scene second, while Derek had turned moon mad at the sight of his injured mate Peter had noticed what the others did not. That there were tracks in the mud leading away from where Stiles lay, that two looked human in tread size and the third did not.

Peter wished that it had been some other wolf who had been injured because Stiles was very skilled in the art of research. Now Peter was forced to pour over old tomes looking for clues. He loathed this kind of work. But if anyone was going to survive the coming storm one of the pack must be prepared. There was an ancient legend, a story his mother had told him around a hunting fire, about wolves and magic. The story of power and love.

He was sitting in the great hall with several of the scrolls in front of him. The skylights had been pulled back to allow for light to shine down on the table he was currently occupying. The others had left the hall hours ago when they realized he would not be moved from his hunt.

The soft tread of feet on the floors alerted him to a visitor. But even before that Peter would have known that she was approaching. He had always been the best tracker in the family, the one who could scent others from leagues away. The trick was not to give it away, to remain undisturbed by the small human female.

Someone had braided her hair back like Laura's and added mud to it. This did not completely cover up her human scent but it made her smell more like a wolf. Many wolves had human mates or at least one human parent in this part of the nation, it's why the war had been so unpopular at the end. When it started the nation had been bloodthirsty.

Lydia wanders around the great hall for a while, taking in the woodwork and generally just seeming to observe. But Peter sees the tense set of her shoulders and the way she continues to carry herself. Something is bothering the small human and she has come to him for answers. Interesting. Infuriating.

"Can I help you with something?" He asks finally, done pretending she is not invading his space and his work.

"I read a great deal about this place." She tells him rather than answer the questions. "I specialize in foreign customs. While Stiles sat in parliament getting ready to rule our people I sat with the dignitaries from other nations learning all their customs."

"We send no dignitaries, we have no need for them." Peter isn't exactly sure where this conversation is going, that is a new experience for him.

"I had to read between the lines very carefully to learn anything about the Wolf Nation. Even Morrell, our expert is only slightly versed in your customs. She cannot help at all beyond legal binding contracts and marriage ceremonies. It was rather frustrating." Lydia spun on her heel and finally looked away from the wall to stare Peter square in the eye.

"And?" He prompted, she had a point she wanted to make.

"You are not what I expected." She speaks this in a rush like it's a relief to let her thoughts be known to the world. The air goes out of her and she seems smaller suddenly. Petite, bite-able. He stomps that thought down into the hole where he keeps things like weakness and hope.

"What did you expect? A raging beast?" Peter flashes his eyes and extends his fangs. It sends a shiver over Lydia's flesh. It makes him want to chase her.

"I expected a monster." For the expert on other places, this seems wrong. But then he realizes she is not speaking of all wolves, she is speaking to just him.

Peter of the first pack, the wolf who went mad in battle and slew hundreds.The fire had dulled Peter's ability to feel pain and increased his healing speed. When the war had first broken out between The Pack and Argent, Peter had been on the front lines. Ah, the little bird fears just him. He wonders if he killed anyone she knew has he remembers warm blood coating his hands and face.

"We are all monsters when we are ideas. The faceless enemy. It is not until we have faces that we become something much worse."

She was worse in person. Before it had jut been an idea, the concept of a fated mate. But so few wolves ever felt the pull of that urge that most simply mated with those they found agreeable to courting. The cub in him had always hoped for a mate that would make him strong. This little red bird was not the mate of his idle fantasies. She was worse. She was better.

"And what would that be?" She leans in. So not only fear drives her. The princess has desires. It boils his insides and chills his spine. He could have her here and now, he realizes. The other human is off playing games with Laura and none of the pack would fight him on this. He wonders if he began the dance how she would answer. With passion probably.

"Understandable. Empathetic. A life. More than just a name, we have faces. Once we are that you can never really fight us again and we can never fight you." Peter growls.

"You think that's a problem." Lydia tilts her head as if to consider this. Her hair slides across her skin and releases a dose of her personal scent. It's maddening.

"There are only two solutions to our conflicts either we wipe each other out or we learn to live with one another." Peter had seen the hearts of men and knew that they had the same rage he did.

"You are betting on the first." Lydia seemed skeptical

"Yes. Rage is a terrible thing to let go of when it's all you have. It is at the core of the hearts of men and wolves alike." Peter stood, "Now if you will excuse me, princess, I have work to do."

"What is it that you actually do?" Lydia asked following him. Peter didn't answer. "Your niece and nephew seem to be the ones that actually run the pack."

Peter gives the girl a look. She really is a girl. Peter might not be much older than Derek but he is most definitely older than this girl and he is not required to explain himself.

Besides, there is no good way to say that he is the expert in death.

* * *

  
Stiles is healing faster than, well can humanly be expected. He remembers what it was like to heal from his wounds during the war and he knows it should be taking three times this long. His bones are practically snapping back together.

Melissa gives him a long meaningful look.

"What?"

"When I was first made part of the pack I could heal from just about anything in a fourth of the time." She offers sagely.

"Oh." Stiles has been trying to come to terms with what is happening to him. He had really thought all that talk about wolf pregnancies was nothing but fear mongering. This was a modern time. They had airships and advanced metal works. It seemed completely insane that a fairy tale could come true.

"You need time." Melissa offers when Stiles has nothing to say.

He does. he does need time. Time to deal with this thought process. Time to figure out what is going on in the Wolf Nation. Time to speak to his mate. He can feel time slipping through his fingers and yet he can't seem to grasp it. 

* * *

 

Peter finds a few wolves who are willing to 'take a walk' with him while their alpha is otherwise busy. He has humans to kill. It's a good thing death was always his job. Peter had bathed in the blood of the pack's enemies before he ever knew the touch of a lover. Death, pain, those were his first mistresses. It's time he returns to them.

* * *

  
The knight finds her on the roof. He looks around appreciatively and sits down next to her.

"Yes?" Laura asks.

"Your brother told me I had to come see you in order to get a job assignment." Parrish moves like one of them. It's so strange. Stiles doesn't move like that.

"You do not need an alpha to get a work assignment you simply need the skill and then to go speak to one of those masters." Laura corrects. Derek probably just huffed at the man and went back to circling his mate in distress.

"You are the one to speak to about military positions," Parrish explains as he stands in front of her. Laura wants to sink her teeth into him.

Parrish smells like woodsmoke and the wind before a rain storm. He smells like death and rebirth and it sets Laura's teeth on edge. She had spent the majority of the last few days organizing better patrols, conscripting others into their more militant jobs. A mate to the first pack had been injured within their territory and no one could explain exactly how it had happened. Laura wasn't ready to deploy Peter on whatever it was that had come here. You can't attack what you can't know.

"What kind of assignment to you desire?" Those were not the words Laura had wanted to use, they had forced themselves from her mouth under the light green gaze.

"I might be of use training pack members in the use of a sword." His smile was soft and knowing. Laura growled deep in her chest.

"Granted." She left before she could do something stupid like kissing him.

* * *

  
Melissa had said that Stiles is ready to come back to the den. Derek was worried. Things had not been properly taken care of for some time. Without Stiles around also meant that Scott was not coming to the den either because Scott was bound to Stiles.

The bed was not properly aired out and the tub needed to be cleaned. They would need the rope ladder again until Stiles was fully healed, he couldn't be expected to climb up in his condition.

Derek cleaned the best he could, hoping that a clean comfortable den would help Stiles heal. Cleaning kept him from thinking because if Derek started thinking he would realize that there was a part of him that wanted to tear the world apart for hurting his mate. Derek didn't want to be that kind of wolf. He didn't want to become Deucalion should anything happen to Stiles.

There was also the small scared part of Derek's mind that pointed out he would have to get used to the idea of losing Stiles. Humans were so fragile. They didn't have the moon's gift in their blood and they died from little things. Derek had always been fascinated and horrified by the scars that covered Stiles. The deep gashes in his leg, that had been made by a wolf, kept Derek in a state of worry and wonder.

How humans must be afraid of everything to see even the slightest injury last on their bodies for all eternity. Humans were such a strange race, to be cut off from the connections of a pack and to be unable to heal wounds.

"You fret too much," Laura spoke from the door. She sat against the frame, dangling her left leg over the entryway into the air below. She looked physically relaxed, all of her limbs loose but there was a tension in her face that Derek knew to be the truth.

"I could say the same to you." Derek moved a gathering of multicolored stones and ran a damp cloth beneath them. "How fares our sister?"

Cora, poor tiny innocent Cora. She had been no more than a pup the last time Derek and Laura had seen her. Barely grown with no muscle on her find bird-like bones.

Her body was free of the scars that must have been inflicted but her mind held the hurt of whatever horrific torture she had endured these past years. It made Derek wonder, would his sister be more whole if she had a physical reminder of her suffering or would she return to herself better without such reminders.   
  
"She is calmer if one of the pack fully shifts to true wolf form," Laura explained softly.

Derek couldn't imagine what must have been done to his cub of a sister but it seemed that she hated human shapes.

"What of the human knight?" Derek has seen Parrish around camp. He appeared to be doing odd jobs for the pack and sometimes just sitting and watching. He was more dangerous than the princess. She has no real skills that could be of damage to them.   
  
"He is being watched," Laura told him. Derek did not pry. He trusted his alpha and his sister. He trusted both of the faces that Laura wore. "Your mate is healing quickly enough to come back to your den. Your concerns should be about his welfare"

"They are," Derek growled in return. He shifted the placement of the stones at the foot of the bed anxiously.

* * *

  
Peter had been tracking the scent for hours now. Only two other wolves remained by his side. The rest he had brought were sent back to the pack. The forest was turning hostile around them. Needle plants tore at the skin and left deeply scented wolf blood along the forest floor.

"We move in the trees." Peter had ordered. Not all of the wolves had the strength or agility to climb the way that Peter and his niece did. He was higher and farther than the others before he realized how far behind they had fallen. He could only hear two following him at this point.

But Peter was determined. The strange scent that had filtered on the wind where Stiles had been injured grew stronger with each step. It was like meeting a long-lost pack member and also the scent of blood and decay. A sharp iron pang to his senses.

He was in an area of the forest that was not often visited. The wolves did not have a need to roam this way. The paths of travel between packs did not cross here nor did hunting parties roam this way. The forest was thick and the vegetation not habitable for others.

So this is where our enemy lies.


End file.
